A psychological disorder relating to skid resistant socks?

The other day as I was doing laundry (my favorite thing to do...NOT!) and as I was putting my socks away something caught my eye.

One of these.

I proceeded to dig though my sock drawer and low and behold I came up with not one but

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

and then the latest pair which brings the grand total to seven...

Six pairs of fuzzy hospital socks with the rubber skid resistant treads on the bottom and one pair of something called an anti-embolism stocking. This pair of socks has an unusual opening at the bottom that exposes the pad of your foot.

What’s up with that I am wondering?

I thought to myself ‘Why do I keep them?’

I think in all the years and all the various medical procedures that have been preformed upon my person I have never once worn them outside of the hospital setting.

I have a vague memory of being extremely desperate once during an especially cold spell. My sock drawer was woefully empty due to the fact that all my really nice warm fuzzy socks were in the wash. I think I may have actually worn a pair only to discover the uncomfortable feeling that the attractive rubber treads made against the pad of my foot inside of my shoe.

So here is the question I have to ask myself.

Why do I keep them?

Is it because they hold some sentimental value?

Do I really want to remember with fond reminiscence the times I have had surgery or some other necessary medical procedure?

Is it laziness? That one is probably the closest to being the truth.

Or could it possibly be the fact that for each pair of skid resistant fuzzy socks that accumulates in my sock drawer also represents a sizable dent in our medical budget. The hospital may have only paid a buck and half for each pair wholesale but I feel certain that they felt justified in charging me an inflated price of $37.50 for each stylish pair.

My answer, practically speaking, as to why I have not thrown them away is simply due to the fact that I abhor waste. The thought of tossing a perfectly good pair of socks in the trash goes against my better judgment. Let us totally set aside the fact that I will never wear them ever, unless there really is global warming and I find myslef in another ice age, I’ll be protected against an unnecessary fall on slippery glacier.

However as I pulled them out of the drawer and saw just how many I had accumulated over the years I was a bit taken a back.

Visions of those talk shows where they profile women with hoarding issues come to mind. I can see the piles of debris as they pan through the hallways stacked with overflowing Rubbermaid bins full of dry cleaning hangers, Burger King ketchup packets and stacks and stacks of skid resistant socks.

Is there a physiological disorder relating to skid resistant socks?

Am I alone in this shameful recognition?

So what do you do with them?

Toss them?

Keep them?

Wear them?

Make sock monkeys?

Hi my name is Robin and I have a psychological sock disorder!