patrícia furtado

It’s a classic, people always complain about receiving socks for Christmas. Well, not me. I love new socks, and I count on the Christmas bounty to replace the worn-till-toe-peaking-out pairs and the missing-in-action-lonely-divorcees (by the way, does anyone know where my socks go when they leave their better halves?).

But as good as this year’s loot was, I couldn’t help but to feel slightly disappointed in the end, when there were no socks to be accounted for. Among all the beautiful scarves, interesting stuff to wear, to read, to cook in, whatever happened to the reliable socks?

It wasn’t just me, this year’s event proved overall poor in socks. With 13 people present, I only saw one lonely pair pop out of wrapping. It was however a night for pijamas, with 7 of them being offered throughout the night. And thankfully, one was destined to be mine.

Still, Christmas isn’t what it used to be. No socks. Sad, really. What saved it for me, though, was my cute adorable little niece, dressed up for the occasion, and always happy and excited about everything. Who cares about presents when you’ve got that to play with?