I wore socks to work today. Self care socks, if you will.
I got these in Asheville. They’re like house-socks, or slippers that look like socks, or shoes that don’t do well in water. It was an extended stay in Asheville, NC. I also left with a nose piercing and enough temporary tattoos to disguise Chris’ identity if she ever needs to slink off a competitive comedy stage again.
That’s a great story. She basically challenged someone to a comedy dance-off and ended up hiding under my chair. This is why we’re friends. When I tell her I think I hear neighbors outside and I don’t want them to hear that I’m home, and that I’m hiding in my closet with a Netflix line-up and a pound of Christmas Oreos and that I’ll slit my wrist if I have to pretend to be a perfect PTA parent right now, she’s all, “Say no to razors. Say yes to reviving inner unicorn with Chris.”
And then she sends me a meme. Like this one.
Friends don’t come better than ones who will help you revive your inner unicorn. Which is kind of what these socks do for me. I slid into my therapy room like Tom Cruise in Risky Business and didn’t even bust my ass. I did that while roller skating.