So here I am wearing my own socks and not some of Fabians. See, this is a pretty exciting deal because apparently i'm infamous for stealing his socks. Oh, and then I apparently lose them and forcing the OCD-darling to wear mis-matched ones is a crime beyond comprehension.
My comprehension that is.
So, every now and then Fabian has a hiss at me about not having any socks and I go out and buy him 10 pairs (and myself a whole bunch so I can stop taking his.) Technically, when I steal and lose his socks it's not so bad seeing as they were gifts from me anyway.
I was sitting here, right in this very spot about 30 minutes ago when I said: 'Darling, do you think I can wear some of your socks? Just while I'm sitting here. I promise I won't take them home.'
That is the kind of trick-foolery i've had to resort to in order to get some warmers for my feet. Horrible stuff.
Off he goes, because he is a loving man (and also he doesn't like it when my giant size 10 feet are ice blocks because, obviously, those are big areas of cold I could put on him while he's trying to sleep.)
He comes back and tries to give me these wierd checkerboard socks that belong to no-one and live in the odd sock drawer. No deal Fabian. Try again.
He comes back and tries to give me a pair of his that reach halfway to my knees and feel like those iron sponge things you use to clean the dishes. No thanks Fabian. Try again.
FINALLY he returns with what I requested which was 'Some socks that are yours and that are preferably those nice fuzzy black ankle ones I got you, but any black ankle ones will do'.
And, you won't bloody believe it. THEY WERE MINE! Ha! Who is stealing whose socks NOW MR. FABIAN?!
They are 100% mine and they are on my feet and they are mine to lose guilt free.
Take that.
Nani x
