POSTSCRIPT RE: AUTOFAILS.

Tonight an unnamed but dear friend of mine (Hi Gene!) alerted me to a most decisive autofail. The toe sock.

This item of clothing offers a clear definition of the lines preventing entry into my big heart.

What are they? Socks that offer a cozy compartment for each individual toe.

They should have been a fad. Much as I appreciate their function of hiding away the nastiness of the human foot, their prompt and shapely silhouetting of the foot feels like betrayal of the highest order.

I regret that the subject came to pass, not via the innocuous path of mere chit chat, but due to Gene's own choice of footwear this evening.