Wanna hear a funny story?
Last weekend on pizza night our family went out for it, something we used to do on a weekly basis before I mastered the fine art of crust-making. We sat at two tables - the teens & twenty somethings at one, my hubby, our bonus baby and I at the other - side-by-side so we could still converse. We laughed and ate pizza and poutine (yum!), chatted with folks at a neighboring table, and generally had a great time. When we got up to leave, I felt something under the table at my feet. There on the floor, twisted and unappealing, lay a dusty, brown knee sock - gross! How long it had lain there was anyone's guess, but the thought of it turned my stomach. This place must really be going downhill! Brave Hubby chivalrously tossed it into the trash, and I tried my best to forget about it. But, later that night as I got ready for bed, I noticed a similar looking shape on my bedroom floor next to the hope chest where I don and doff my jeans. Yes, it was a brown knee sock. Just one. And then I remembered. I had stayed in comfy lounge pants all day, only throwing on jeans moments before we left the house. The stray sock must have been inside my pant leg, and snaked its way to the floor at the pizza place!
I don't usually like to reveal my embarrassing moments to the world. Like everyone, I try to put my best face forward. But sometimes, just maybe, laughing at our silly selves is the same thing.