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Sundays were made for this
Oct. 23rd, 2005 11:35 pmThe therapeutic bathtub just went all crazy on me! I ran it a bit earlier to clean it out and now, all of a sudden, it turned itself on and started blowing out air. O_O
In other news, I spent 75$ on underwear and socks today. At Zellers, though, so I got lot of socks for that much, but it still sounds like a lot, don't you think? At first I thought I'd just get a few pairs of black socks, because everyone knows that you can never have too many black socks*, but then I saw they had all these cute patterned ones. I thought, "The hell with this, I'm not going to spend another winter wearing those old threadbare things I probably had all the way back in cegep!", so I found myself standing in line at the cash register with an armload of socks. I distinctly felt like Michael and Norman**, though I knew that no plant would be getting any raspberry ripple from me!
Speaking of socks, I think the way they're packaged is a little excessive. For instance, I bought a four-pack of thin, black cotton socks. They were held together by a cardboard sheath, which in addition to going around the socks was held by one of those annoying little plastic things going all the way through the four pairs of socks. There was also a little plastic hanger to keep it up on the rack. Then, each individual pair of socks had those tiny metal prongs holding the toes together and the top end. Why is all this necessary? Are the socks trying to escape? Would they walk out of the store on their own were they not forcefully held down? Or is it some sort of warding against the God of Socks, who routinely demands sacrifice in laundry baskets and washing machines the world over? All I know is, I felt pretty silly when I got home, sat down on my bed with the pile of socks and spent five minutes picking at the stickers, plastic bits and metal doohickies so I could put them all away.
* I still chuckle to myself when I remember how Max mangled the "Black socks, they never get dirty, the longer you wear them, the stronger they get," song I learned at Brownie camp, turning into "the stronger you wear them, the longer they get".
** The Plant That Ate Dirty Socks, by Nancy McArthur, is one of the two books (the other being Skinnybones, by Barbara Park) that consistently made my howl with laughter, every time I read them as a kid. I'm sure I could recite parts of them from memory, given the right prompting.
In other news, I spent 75$ on underwear and socks today. At Zellers, though, so I got lot of socks for that much, but it still sounds like a lot, don't you think? At first I thought I'd just get a few pairs of black socks, because everyone knows that you can never have too many black socks*, but then I saw they had all these cute patterned ones. I thought, "The hell with this, I'm not going to spend another winter wearing those old threadbare things I probably had all the way back in cegep!", so I found myself standing in line at the cash register with an armload of socks. I distinctly felt like Michael and Norman**, though I knew that no plant would be getting any raspberry ripple from me!
Speaking of socks, I think the way they're packaged is a little excessive. For instance, I bought a four-pack of thin, black cotton socks. They were held together by a cardboard sheath, which in addition to going around the socks was held by one of those annoying little plastic things going all the way through the four pairs of socks. There was also a little plastic hanger to keep it up on the rack. Then, each individual pair of socks had those tiny metal prongs holding the toes together and the top end. Why is all this necessary? Are the socks trying to escape? Would they walk out of the store on their own were they not forcefully held down? Or is it some sort of warding against the God of Socks, who routinely demands sacrifice in laundry baskets and washing machines the world over? All I know is, I felt pretty silly when I got home, sat down on my bed with the pile of socks and spent five minutes picking at the stickers, plastic bits and metal doohickies so I could put them all away.
* I still chuckle to myself when I remember how Max mangled the "Black socks, they never get dirty, the longer you wear them, the stronger they get," song I learned at Brownie camp, turning into "the stronger you wear them, the longer they get".
** The Plant That Ate Dirty Socks, by Nancy McArthur, is one of the two books (the other being Skinnybones, by Barbara Park) that consistently made my howl with laughter, every time I read them as a kid. I'm sure I could recite parts of them from memory, given the right prompting.
