Monday socks

Are you really going to show the world your socks?

Well, first of all-it’s hardly the world.  At most maybe 5 of you will read this and experience my shame.  Secondly, sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words and lastly, well-it is what it is.

My day started like this:  2 different trouser socks.  One striped, the other not-stripped.  Let’s be honest, I should have known it was going to be ‘one of those days’ even before the trouser sock incident. How about when I, still in my robe, reached for the hair dryer only to discover that it was already PAST time for me to leave the house.  Yep.  Wet hair and all.  Or it could have been the 2 pairs of pants I tried and discarded before settling on ones that needed just a SCHOOSH more room versus a LOT more room.  I failed to register those fine points.  Nope, it was the socks that finally sealed my fate.  I put one on, then the other.  Of course I was hoping up and down at the time trying to shimmy into my pants so I blamed the sagging on the motion.  It wasn’t until I used my foot to wipe the dust off my shoes that I noticed the stripe and the NON-stripe.  At this point I was 15 minutes late which was dangerously close to making the kids late so I had to make a judgement call.  They are black–who will notice?

Bad call. I wasn’t out of the driveway before I realized that the left sock was creeping down slowly but steadily.  Quick brake and quick tug.  Better.  For about 15 seconds.  That was the first moment that I thought, ‘its going to be a long day.’

169 e-mails later-one reminding me of something left undone on Friday I was pretty sure that the day didn’t hold much promise.  For each e-mail I read I had to tug up the non-striped sock.  No less than 169 tugs before I finished my first cup of coffee.

“To heck with it,” I thought at tug 170 only to remember that today was the day I had to stand in front of a group of people.  GREAT.  My wet hair was dried but frizzy, my shirt a little too tight around the mid-riff and now I have to stand in front of folks in my mis-matched saggy glory and worry that someone won’t notice.

I field 4-5 more e-mails dealing with problems that I can’t solve and questions that I can’t answer. Tug, hit REPLY, type “I don’t know”, SEND, tug back to in-box. Repeat.  Repeat.  Finally one of the ‘I must be totally stupid’ e-mails is from a friend who knows me AND likes me so I was able to: Reply, type, “just once today I would like to be asked a question I know the answer to or one that doesn’t make me feel stupid’ before hitting SEND, tugging up my sock and going back to the in-box.

25 minutes into a program I was in charge of I had 4 facilitators ready to go but no one to facilitate.  Obviously something was wrong. 30 minutes later that problem is solved but not before sheer panic and finger pointed occurred.  It’s hard to stand firm and proud when one sock is around your ankle.

And so on and so forth.  My fingers were raw from the constant sock tugging when I FINALLY got home and opened the package that I had been waiting weeks on….my monogrammed necklace.  Ahh….a bright and shiny end to a dreary day.  I hold it up and my husband said, “Is that a bracelet?”  Pss-haw I say chuckling at his lack of fashion sense.  I put the necklace on.  I pivot quickly  (causing the sock to immediately fall) to show off.  My husband and my daughter both choke out, “looks great”.  Their faces say otherwise.  I limp, not because of a leg injury but due to the physchological damage one sock up and one sock down all day.  My brain thinks I have one leg shorter then the other at this point.  I limp to the mirror where I see a gold disk sticking straight out from my adams apple.  I can’t tell it’s my monogram because it’s parrallel to the floor.  Evidentally I misjudged the size of my NECK and have ordered a necklace about 10 sizes too small.  My daughter claimed it as hers but it’s a MONOGRAM–and it’s not her MONOGRAM.  My husbands suggestion that it would make a nice anklet earned him some sign language an it wasn’t a wave.

In the grand scheme of life I have nothing to complain about. I know that. I have healthy children, a roof over my head, a job and have food to eat.  I can’t lie though.  Today this is how I felt:

 

 

 

 

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