So, I believe I hit a new low two days ago. Having gotten into the regime of going to the gym before work, I have a pretty slick preparation process the evening before. This is so that, in my semi-slumber, I don't have to stagger around my bedroom packing my bag and most fundamentally remember to take things so I don't end up at work with a tea-towel and one shoe in my bag.

This planning is prone to human error, which reared its ugly head on Tuesday morning. Having been the gym I unpacked my work clothes...shirt, trousers, fresh boxers....socks? SOCKS?...No socks. This wouldn't be a disaster on a casual day, but wearing a suit with sweaty white gym socks is pretty much the faux-pas of all faux-pas. I panicked. What options do I have? Is the white socks option that bad? Yes. When I put my hands on my head in near surrender, I spotted my forbidden fruit taunting me on a radiator. Someone had left their worn Homer Simpson socks tantalisingly dangling in front of me.

I hurriedly took the socks.

As I pulled them on over my feet I was filled with guilt and shame. I'm a great believer in forgiveness and that people will make one mistake at some stage in their life, they might cheat on a girlfriend, start a fight or steal something that's not theirs. What I'm most upset about is, I effectively wasted my one theft on a pair of sweaty Homer Simpson socks.