I am not sure if the socks I am wearing today belong to me.
So how did I end up with not one but a pair of stranger's socks? Guess that’s just one of the side effects of sharing washers and dryers with your neighbors. The socks are black and sort of have a lace pattern, which is both fashionable (if you are a female, and like lace; I don’t, but these aren’t really my socks now, are they?) and functional, as this allows for better ventilation. But the socks are a little tight at the top, leaving that ring around the lower calf. And this makes me sort of hate these socks.
But besides my hosiery, I made another observation today.
Moments ago, while in the restroom, I was joined by a coworker who proceeded to talk to herself in her individual stall. While we peed side-by-side she kept mumbling away things like, “yeah, uh-hum, okay then, yup.”
Now, I have nothing against inner dialogue. In fact, I often find myself talking out loud to myself, but only when (and here’s the key) I am by myself. When you are talking to yourself in the presence of others, well, it just doesn’t look sane.