Ms. Harlot’s socks are travelling the continent basking in the glory of hiking, famous monuments and full adoration of the knitting masses. Margene’s socks are frockling in the smell of a Herb Garden.
My sock. My sock is finished! Yippy. I was so excited to finish *one* sock that I actually wore it around the house. And to bed.
The morning came and this is where we found the sock:
Shed in a fit of passionate? or Too damn hot to wear socks in bed?
Ehem. Is my sock having more fun than theirs?! Or just leading a boring life stuffed in the end of a bed?
That dirty sock.
pps – Thank you for all of your words of support. I returned home to Boston last night and am back in the swing of life. Family Stuff is still there, but I am not.