Stay Out of My Socks!
I always add a hearty, “dammit” under my breath when I utter this phrase to my husband.
Tonight he walked into the living room, casually put his feet in my lap, and asked for a 68.
By the way, a 68 is a foot rub and he’ll owe me one. Get it?
I have no issue giving him a 68, but I DO take issue with this dude walking around wearing my socks all Willy Nilly!
”I” haven’t even worn these socks yet!!
They’re so cute too! The left sock says, “If you can read this” and the right sock says, “Bring me a glass of wine.”
Ay yi yiiiiiii...
First of all...
I’m the one currently drinking s glass of wine. He didn’t even want any! How are these socks even relevant to his life right now?
As I type this blog, this man is laying on the couch with his feet in my lap. I’m bothered. Like, I’m really bothered because I’m kind of selfish with my socks and this isn’t the first time he’s violated my sock drawer.
“Why are you wearing my socks?” I asked.
”What, E?” He asked incredulously, “They’re our socks!”
Is Calgon still a thing? Because I need something to take me away.
I don’t know what lesson can be learned from this.
Hide your socks, I guess.