sugar toes

I sometimes walk the downtown tunnels to the Park Shops (a mall-like building in the middle of urbania). Generally, I trek there for the Hallmark shop because while the tunnels are rife with little trinket shops, the cards in them categorically suck ass. While Hallmark makes me want to vomit from sweetness, they have some tolerable greeting cards. Anyway, on the third floor of the Park Shops there is a vitamin store. Or some kind of snake-oil peddler of health stuff. Every time I pass this store I want to go in there and steal their sign. I must not be the only one because now it's taped to the inside of the display window:

On Sale: Diabetic Socks

My delight is two-fold because first, I had no idea you could test for blood sugar on knitted garments. Or that somewhere on those sick socks, perhaps near the ribbing, is a place to inject insulin.

Second, after I chide myself with, No stupid-head, those socks are not diabetic, they are FOR diabetics, I'll claim to have known that all along and traipse in to buy a pair–just in case I become a diabetic at some future date. I wouldn't want to be caught with the stable blood sugar socks at such a critical moment.

Besides they will go so nicely with my arthritic underpants and hypertensive bra.