Socks in bed

I love my hand knit socks. They are the only ones I will wear. They fit my feet perfectly and don't have any annoying seams rubbing across my toes. They are soft. They know me. But then comes the problem of wearing them in bed. When I go to bed at night I usually am freezing. I have my socks on, my flannel jammies, sometimes an undershirt, and on the coldest of nights maybe even a hat. I am cozy under my sheet and two quilts. I'm like a little caterpillar in her cocoon. Safe. Snug. Warm.

And then it happens. HOT FLASH! When I first started hearing my friends talk about hot flashes I thought those women were out of their minds. But then I started to experience them myself. When they say hot, they really mean HOT and when they say flash, it should be FLASH. Seriously, they hit you strong and hard and fast. You barely have enough time to take off your clothes to escape the inferno. Then five minutes later you are shivering. You feel like Wile E. Coyote has held onto a stick of "Dyn-O-mite" one second too long and have instantly combusted into a pile of ash. And then the arctic wind blows.

The problem with all this is that in the process to relieve yourself of anything that might retain heat (including covers, clothes, and lovers) your socks end up at the bottom of the bed. Retrieving them is no small feat. Trying to get them sorted out of their post strip jumble is nearly impossible in the dark and you are so tired that you forget about them. Until you get up in the morning and your feet are freezing. I do not recommend trying to find and put on crumpled socks in a pre-caffeinated state. It's just easier to pull on a new pair from the pile.

You do this for many nights in a row and then suddenly you can't find any of your hand knit socks because they are all at the bottom of your bed, intertwined like some sort of sock orgy. There in the wedge of your sheets are merino consorting with bamboo and colorwork going at it with lace. And you don't even want to know what the gansey is doing to the stockinette plain Jane. They look up at you like it is your fault.

Honestly, I don't care what my socks do under the covers. I just wish they would start having babies. But then, I'm not sure if I would like the product of this:

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