Friday Hate: 1/30

Well, I hope everyone had a nice week. Maybe reconnected with old friends, made some new ones, and stopped for a brief moment or two to enjoy the little things that make life worth living.

Now that we got that shit out of the way, let's dive into this week's edition of Friday Hate:

Socks.

I fucking hate wearing socks, and by extension, the shoes that come with them.

If you read my earlier post about Winter, you would see that the two go hand in hand.

I'm a busy man. Between my job, the writing I do for free (including this little ditty here), and generally living the life, who has time to find a pair of matching socks, sit down, put them on, put my shoes on, tie them up.

What the fuck is that? We live in 2009. Shoes should put themselves on and tie themselves. Or I should be able to put my feet in a tub of goo, that will harden itself into a temporary shoe.

Summer, now that's the money season. When I didn't have a summer job, I once went an entire summer without putting socks on. Literally.

I also once went another summer by only putting socks on for work, and one other time, when I went to an arcade in Maine.

I would actually take a pay cut to be able to wear sandals every day to work. You can't put a price on comfort. (If my boss is reading this: A) Please don't read any more of this blog; B) If you do, please don't fire me and; C) Don't cut my pay.)

In a related hate-related note: I hate wearing dirty socks. And to me, dirty means once they're off, they're dirty.

The first time I went to Manhattan, I hadn't packed enough socks, so I spent a miserable day in dirty socks. Nothing feels worse than that.

From then on, I usually pack 1.5 pairs of socks for every day I am to spend away, and I round up the .5. So on a three day trip, I would take 4.5 pairs, rounded up to 5. You can't be too careful these days.

Let's crunch some numbers.

Let's assume it takes a total of three minutes to find matching socks, put them on, then put your shoes on. Add another minute for taking the shoes off at a later point.

Let's also assume that you only put your shoes on once, and only take them off once.

Now, assume you work a standard work week, five days a week, and that's the only time you wear shoes and socks.

Let's assume you work 48 weeks out of the year, average. So, five times a week, 48 weeks a year, times four minutes of shoe/sock nonsense.

That's 960 minutes, or 16 hours a year. Might not sound like much, right?

If you start work when you turn 22, retire at age 65, that's 43 years. 16 hours times 43 years equals 688 hours, or about 29 days.

That's almost a month of your life spent putting on shoes and socks. And I was very conservative in my estimates.

Why, that's almost as much wasted time as the time I took to figure all of those numbers out.

In conclusion, I hate socks. And you, I hate you too.