Socks of Doom

I had a harrowing experience with a pair of socks the other day.  It was so bad that I felt it was worthy of a blog entry.  That, and I haven't had anything better to blog about for a couple weeks, apparently.

So I went on a weekend excursion which involved a lot of Geocaching.  If you're not familiar with Geocaching, it's basically a sport in which we use billions of dollars of government-owned equipment to help us find tupperware containers in the woods, some of which contain valuable toys from McDonald's.  It can also involve a great deal of hiking.

I spent most of the day on Friday finding caches up around St. Marys, PA, and I wasn't going to let the fact that it was pouring down rain stop me from finding my tupperware. At the end of the day, I was rather extremely moist, and in retrospect I should have simply abandoned my clothing -- especially my drenched socks -- in the woods, or set fire to all of it, or something.  As a side note, as I was hiking through the woods, on two separate occasions I found pairs of underwear in the middle of nowhere.  I'm not sure what goes on in those woods.

Anyway, instead of burning those clothes, I stuck them in a secret compartment in the back of my Prius.  There's a little "cubbyhole" kind of thing in the hatch, convenient for keeping bug spray, windshield cleaner, illegal aliens, WD-40, etc.  This is where I tossed the Socks of Doom for the weekend.

I came home on Monday night after spending a couple days in the eastern part of Pennsylvania, and it was pretty warm for most of that time.  When it came time to extract the socks from the car, I was concerned that they might stink a little since I could already smell them a bit while I was driving.  But nothing prepared me for the amazing stench I was about to endure.

Remember the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, when the Nazi dudes were standing there around the ark, and with great anticipation they opened it up and these demons came bursting out, all honked off?  And the faces of the Nazis melted right off as the demons roared into the sky?  I think my socks were actually a little worse than the demons.  I managed to hold my breath as I held them away from my body as I literally ran them to the basement to toss them into the washing machine.  And now they're clean again.

Beyond that, there really isn't a real point or moral to the story.  But then again, I rarely have a point, do I?