Perfectly mismatched

Have I ever mentioned I have a thing for mismatched stuff? Some days, I wake up and I just want to jolt my senses into thinking, how does this work? So I throw on my jeans and a hot pink t-shirt, tiptoe out the front door and slip quietly into my… you guessed it, neon green thonged platforms.

Bam, a clash of colors loud enough to wake up the neighbor’s cat! Sorry, Tabby!

Apparently my girls have inherited this fancy for the mismatched. They spied these socks at the corner of the shoe store where I was paying for the 4 or 5 pairs of shoes we’d bought, and before anyone could utter a word, two stacks of these were sitting at checkout.

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