Observations about the universe, life, Lausanne and me

Wednesday, September 28, 2011


Socks drive me crazy. I try to avoid them whenever I can, but now that I am gainfully employed, and in the clean-room almost every day, I can't just show up in thongs anymore. Oh heady days of academia!
Well, my pitiful pile of socks consisted of about six mismatched pairs, with variously sized holes in them, in differing shades of faded black. But no more! Behold, the solution of my sock problems: I ordered a motherload of the slippery little devils from the sock-shop. And not just any old kind of sock, but nifty embroidered dragon socks. Dragon socks! It bears repeating. Having thrown out all other socks, I will never again be afflicted by mismatched pairs, and if my girlfriend steals some, I shall know. Equally I shall notice if I take some of hers, for while the size difference of six whole points has been proven insufficient in the past, the lack of dragons will tell in the future. I hope. The sockless girlfriend is a terrifying thing...


  1. That's a very griffin-looking dragon, there. Still, I've a soft spot for mythical beasties so it's all good.

  2. It's the welsh national dragon, or Gaelic, or something - I didn't really care beyond having a dragon on my socks ;)