It may take an old-timey miner and his canary to spot the depths we've sunk to in our pursuit for comfort.

It may take an old-timey miner and his canary to spot the depths we’ve sunk to in our pursuit for comfort.

I fear I’ve grown soft. Here’s the latest evidence.

In November, I confessed a certain … curiosity … about a chair that allows you to work as you recline. That cannot be a good thing, for me or for our nation.

And on this Change of Venue Friday, I point you to a video about … Netflix socks.

As you can see for yourself in the video below, these are socks that will pause your binge-watched program if they sense you have nodded off—in your Barcalounger or otherwise.

The bots at Netflix say this technology is part of actigraphy, “a non-invasive method of monitoring human rest/activity cycles. A small actigraph unit, also called an actimetry sensor, is worn … to measure gross motor activity. The unit is usually, in a wrist-watch-like package, worn on the wrist.”

… Or around your ankles, I suppose, as they are rapidly consumed by gout. ‘Murica.

Like most sensible people, I clicked the “news” video expecting to laugh uproariously at the depth to which we’ve plunged, civilization-wise. After all, this kind of product puts the “gross” in gross motor activity. Amiright?

Instead, as I watched, I caught myself musing on how smart that tech is, and what a boon to humankind. RED FLAGS! Here’s the video:

I’ll admit that the warning signs were there. I already have demonstrated a fondness for socks, as the following photos show (the second is a portion of my sock drawer—I reveal all to you, supportive readers!)

My socks at work, while my angle of recline indicates "not workin'."

Would a miner have worn these? My socks at work, while my angle of recline indicates “not workin’.”

A sampling of socks gaze out from a portion of my drawer (yes, there are more socks).

A sampling of socks gaze out from a portion of my drawer (yes, there are more socks).

But I must somehow be pulled back from the modern-ridiculousness abyss.

At work, someone has brought in factory-made Swiss Miss hot “chocolate” mix—with “marshmallows.” And I’m considering it. Seriously. Someone call for help—and I wish you a weekend free of techy socks.

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