Dear wet socks,
Nothing makes me want to punch kittens in their little kitten faces (too graphic?) than a pair of saturated socks. Living in Arizona, this isn't usually a problem. However, thanks to my one mile uphill hike from the light rail station to the business school during today's freak hurricane (comparable to how your grandpa got to school, I'm sure,) I got to listen to the *squish* *squish* *squish* of my damp ass socks for the rest of the day. (On a side note, I say damp because another thing I cannot handle is the word moist...gross... but I'll save that for another entry.) Anyway, I cannot handle you. I can handle looking like a wet dog with wet hair stuck to my face for the rest of my day, but not you.
SEE YOU AGAIN IN 360 DAYS, WET SOCKS. BRING ON THE SUNSHINE.
love, kirsten
No comments:
Post a Comment