so i bought a pair of socks about two months ago with my son, Thing 2 (11).
he needed new sneakers because the leather ones he insisted on wearing had a smell all their own. we bought the socks when we bought the sneakers.
the old sneakers (not the new ones) smelled like garlic and cat piss.
I. Kid. You. Not.
we used to think that there were dying muskrats in the house or musk anything in the house when he would remove them.
so we went to a local running store to get new ones.
"what about your quest for equanimity? to just let things be?" you ask?
"what about my quest to exist in my home without searching for SCUBA tanks?" i retort.
the guys at the running store Have Great Legs. it is very coincidental that they're all about 24 years old too.
T2 tried on a pair of nice running shoes. i wanted to get him mesh ones so that they could breathe too. after all, if he was going to kill another pair of sneakers with his foot's death stench, they should at least be able to breathe.
he liked them, they had to order them in his size.
"come back wednesday, they'll be in then from our blahdeblah store" said a blonde guy who looks like this: