I had a little bit of a reality check today. I woke up and it was a little chilly in the house- I had gone to bed in cropped yoga pants and a t-shirt, fumbling around in the darkened morning-lit room I found a pair of knee socks I bought for roller derby and a hooded sweatshirt. I pulled them on and made my way downstairs.
Hours later (spot the night owl in this story), Mr. McKay makes his way down here and I am two pots of coffee into editing a book I recently completed.
The table where I write is behind an arm chair in the living room, so my lower half was obscured from view while we exchanged morning pleasantries. Imagine the look on his face when I finally got up to refill my mug and he caught a sight of these.
His actual line was, "Hey buddy! Nice socks!"
I forgot I had them on. Then I realized I hadn't showered, brushed my teeth or even glanced in a mirror since tumbling out of bed.
|Tina Fey is my Spirit Animal|
Wouldn't you think that having a roller derby playing, smut writer wife that she would be the epitome of sexiness all the time?