A dense freezing fog painted the trees white. Even though the thermostat read 70 degrees, a simple look out the window gave me a chill. At the end of the day, I crawled into bed and nestled under the covers expecting a reprieve from the dreary cold. Sleep Socks I lay there, as I often do, impatient for sleep. I plumped my pillow and closed my eyes from the bedside clock’s illuminated display. I turned on my side and waited. Sleep didn’t come. I tossed. I turned. My toes were icicles that refused to warm up. I rose, careful not to wake my softly snoring husband. Rummaging through my sock…