Day 97 - Crisp White Ankle Socks

Bill and I had decided the night before we left for backpacking that if we ended our trip early, we would head to Tahoe and spend a few days relaxing at my parents' condo. Since the idea was not definitive, and very last minute, we didn't necessarily plan for it. When we got to Tahoe, the only clothes and items that I had were the things that I'd brought backpacking. All of a sudden the clothes that had served me so well for the last five days made me feel embarrassed and self-conscious.

Immediately after the hike, we stopped at a nearby restaurant to satisfy our craving for "real food." With my legs covered in thick matted dirt, my hair sticking stiffly to my head from sweating in a hat for 9 hours, and my general smelly hiking attire, I felt disgustingly conspicuous.

We licked our plates clean within 5 minutes of the food hitting our table. Our plates were damn near spinning when we headed out. I made sure to leave a good tip since I feared we may have been the reason the tables surrounding us remained unoccupied.

On the car ride to Tahoe I checked my texts and all the social medias. After scrolling through Facebook for about a half hour, I declared to Bill that I'm deleting the app from my phone. It wasn't much of a commitment since I hadn't gone as far as deleting my account, but I felt it would still be a step in a positive (not technology-addicted) direction.

"I should delete Clash of Clans too..." I declared less definitively. Facebook and Clash of Clans were by far the two apps I wasted the most time on. Sometimes I'd go on my phone to send a text, and 30 minutes later I'd have FB stalked 5 people, and reorganized my Clash of Clans village, but not sent the text. With some remorse, I bid farewell to my internet friends/clan mates, and removed the app from my phone.

We took cold showers (the hot water hadn't been turned on yet), did laundry and crashed in what felt like the world's most comfortable bed.

The next day I was on a mission to get a mani-pedi. With my nails so disgustingly brown and chipped, I felt that there was nothing in the world that could make me feel better. I threw on my wool hiking socks, boots, hiking pants, and work-out shirt and headed to a nearby salon.

After my mani pedi, we stopped in CVS and I bought a three pack of cotton white ankle socks for $4. I tore off my sweaty wool socks and replaced them with my new crisp white ones.

"Look at you in your fancy ankle socks!" Bill exclaimed.

"I know! It's wonderful!" I remarked genuinely.

The mani-pedi was great, but these ankle socks made me feel even better. They somehow made me feel like a more civilized human being - like someone who was meant to be around other people. When I got back to the condo, I retired my wool socks for the rest of the trip.