no priests, doctors or lawyers were harmed in this almost-making of a joke

a frazzled looking woman walks into starbucks mid afternoon just before school pickup.  the barista asks, "is that a sock tucked under your bra strap, or are you just..."

little did the barista know it was the prized sock, the one hold-out for which the frazzled woman had been searching all morning.  to do all the sorting, washing and drying (well, it is true machines really do that part), folding and then be outsmarted by one puny black goldtoe resisting match up? it wasn't going to happen to me .  not today.  not when i was on a house cleaning, clothes organizing, crap-purging roll.  i likely forgot i'd cleverly placed the thing there for safe keeping because it was actually pretty comfy, this soft pad between the tenderly delicate skin above my clavicle and my bra strap, you know, sort of like this: