Sock Slip

Did you have a pair of socks when you were a teenager that used to disappear into your school shoes? When you head out for the day in a pair of socks like that it doesn't matter what else happens, you are going to be tetchy. Because, you see, even though it's such a small thing it's persistent. You can feel it all day - there go your socks again, now you're standing on them, and no matter what you're doing, you can feel them all the damn time. And you can't go home and change them.

I had a bit of a sock slip day today. Now that I'm a fully-fledged adult, of course, I get sockette slip. The sodding things disappear off my toes and into the front of my shoes and I poke at them with my (ever greasier) feet. At least by this stage, at 7pm, I'm at work and so I've taken my shoes off entirely (sorry, Jenny) but the motion has been set in place. I'm still cranky.

My question is: do we suffer from sock-slip because we're destined to be irritated and we need something, however small, to blame it on; or is the sock itself cosmically annoying in a way we can't appreciate? Think about it.