Misbehaving Tuesday: Misappropriated Sock Edition

I did some loafing this morning, then ran my usual Tuesday errands. Overall, not a super-misbehaving Tuesday, except that my usual Tuesday run to Target for whatever we’re out of (mouthwash) gave me an idea.

From time to time I will buy something from the kids’ clothing department because it is cheaper and fits just fine – t-shirts, gym socks, that sort of thing. My favorite sneakers (knock-off skate shoes with flames on the sides) are from the boys department at Wal-Mart from back when I would set foot in a Wal-Mart, and I have a few t-shirts that are youth larges and XLs.

(I do need to interrupt myself here and mention that a couple of jobs ago, I worked with a gal who had lots of tiny little kids’ t-shirts from thrift stores. She wore them often and she looked ridiculous. But, her shirts had cartoon characters on them and were so little that they only covered her from shoulders to lower ribcage*, which gave her the appearance of a rapidly growing preschooler whose family was down on their luck, which is why the whole hipster aesthetic is just depressing. I am very careful not to do that.)

At one point, all of my gym-going underwear was from a plain 7-pack from the girls department, because it was cheap and not made out of some ridiculous material. (Wearing of thongs during vigorous exercise: what the hell? Discuss.) The only bummer was that I bought it during a Christmas shopping trip, and I unpacked all seven pairs to put in the wash at the same time that I was wrapping presents. One pair vanished, and for days, I was paranoid that one of Scott’s nephews was going to get my underwear as a present. (I couldn’t decide what would be more mortifying: one of the kids getting a toy with panties attached to it, or Scott’s family knowing that I bought them in the girls’ section.) I unwrapped and re-wrapped all of the presents, and never found the missing undies. Weird.

It turns out that $2.50 buys a lot of misbehaving.

Anyway, today I wandered into the kids’ department at Target because I had some Misbehaving Cash set aside, and I was unsatisfied with the tights still left in the ladies’ department. Behold, there on the wall were ruffly socks, on SALE. I now have three pairs of ruffly little girly socks that are made for, well, ruffly little girls, but I am going to wear them anyway, because if I have to wear socks for another six weeks, I should at least be able to come home and do a halfway decent impression of a ZZ Top video.

*Apparently I can’t type tonight. “Ribcage” kept coming out as “fubbage.” I think I like it: “Sweetie, you can’t go out like that. That shirt barely covers your fubbage.”