Pulled out clean socks this morning and put them on. After a few minutes, I can feel something tickling my toes. Now, it could be a hair, but it’s early in the morning so I’m sure it’s an ant. Like, I know down to my marrow there is an ant inside my sock. And I’m not talking Paul Rudd Ant-Man ant, I mean one of those big black monstrosities.
I could have checked. I should have checked. But until I pulled the sock the ant was only theoretical. I had a real Schrödinger’s cat situation on my hands. Because as sure as I was that this was an ant, I could tell myself it wasn’t until I actually pulled the sock off to check.
I resolved to never remove the sock again.
So, obviously, I stepped in cat puke seconds later, forcing me to not only change socks, but also scream before crying softly to myself while washing my foot.
Oh, and it turns out the ant was actually a ball of cat hair.
I sort of hate my cats.