You’re foaming at the shoe…

I drove to work this morning in hopes of arriving in the parking lot in between spurts of downpour. I had no such luck. So, my options were to either stay in the car listening to Areosmith and wait it out, or just get it over with and make a run for the building. Since down pours in Minnesota can last a while, and it *could* really have been worse, I made a run for it.

I got into the building looking like a wet dog. I put my bag on the X-Ray machine belt, handed the security agent my keys and ID, and go through the X-Ray scanner. The agent noticed, “You’re foaming at the shoe!” Now, this is not the usual greeting one expects to receive. But, sure enough, there was a bubbly substance coming out of my shoe.

I got to the office and put everything up so it could dry, and I examined my socks. Apparently, the washing machine didn’t get all of the soap out of my socks. And so wet was I, and so great the agitation I created getting to the building, that I created enough disturbance to start another wash cycle. I have my socks hanging from my cubical. Thank God for casual dress codes.