I had a minor incident in the supermarket today. I had to pop in there on my way to Stead's house to grab some bits and pieces for lunch.
As I was walking down the (rather busy) bread aisle, searching for some tasty baps I felt movement in my jeans. A strange shifting, if you like. I knew I hadn't soiled myself, and I was pretty sure that I hadn't passed a ferret farm on my way to Tesco.
The offending object began to work it's way down my left leg. I looked around. There were several people in the aisle with me, so I couldn't exactly whip my trews off to see what it was. I had to shake my leg and work it down, until it was near my shoe. Then I crouched as if to do my shoe laces up (not very convincing to anyone paying attention as I was wearing slip-ons) and snuck the item out of my trouser leg.
It was a sock.
Sorry. That was a bit of an anti climax, wasn't it. It seems that when I got undressed last night and carelessly tossed my clothes on the floor, one of my socks found its way into my jeans and then, when I pulled 'em on this morning I failed to check 'em for stowaway socks. Odd thing is though, I'd been up and about for a couple of hours before the sock made it's presence felt.
Anyway... sorry to have wasted your time!
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