'Obviously, you've just done so,' Dumbledore smiled. 'You may ask me one more thing, however.'
'What do you see when you look in the mirror?'
'I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.' Harry stared.
'One can never have enough socks,' said Dumbledore. 'Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.'
It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question."
- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Dumbledore knows what's what.
There is no part of my zookeeping wardrobe that I fixate on a tenth as much as my socks. My shirts are speckled with bleach stains. My pants have holes of various sizes and interesting back stories. But my socks are inviolate.
Well, that's actually completely not true. They do get violated. A lot. After a typical day of work, I can get out of my socks and they'll still be standing upright even without my feet in them. That's what 12 hours worth of sweat and grime will do to a garment, I suppose. Especially when most of those hours are spent in rather moist conditions.
Socks are what I call my resource of limit for laundry. I'm willing to recycle almost any article of clothing without washing it in a pinch... but I don't think I could ever imagine wearing socks for two days without a wash. When I was younger and poorer, I tried saving laundry money by hand-washing my socks in the sink. The results were boots full of blisters. I never skimped on sock-washing again.
Besides socks, I have an admirable collection of shoes, of which I take no fashion pride in. There are tennis shoes for light walking around the zoo, rain boots which I slog through puddles in, insulated muck boots for the winter, and hiking boots for the long treks. They all line up under my desk in a mud-encrusted heap - I rarely seem to be wearing the right shoe or boot on the right day, but at least I have something to change into after absent-mindedly stepping into a slow-draining pool. Still, on the infrequent days when I'm at the desk for an extended period of time, I love to stealthily slip out of my shoes (hoping no one notices the smell) and wiggle my toes.
I mentioned a while ago, in the winter I would do anything to replace my frozen, frost-bitten hands. In the summer, I'd settle for a new set of feet. A few years back my family roped me in on the FitBit craze. To this day I have no idea why. My mother and my brother can be absurdly competitive, and the only thing they hate more than losing to each other is losing to me. And, apart from animal-themed categories on Jeopardy!, "Distances Walked Daily" is the only competition that I always come out on top of... or ever come out on top of, actually.
(My family had heard of the concept of letting the youngest child win occasionally at board games growing up, but they wanted no part of it).
On a regular day, I walk about 10 miles. It's been over 20 on some long occasions, and when you are on your feet that much, what you have on those feet really matters.
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