Since the beginning of the 20th century, when the first in-home washing machines were being invented, something has been eating socks. Although socks are made in pairs, this mysterious sock-eating monster only has appetite for one of a kind. It never eats both socks. Over time, this leaves the washer-person with a pile of pairless singles. I know I am not the first person to notice this as I have read many articles and heard many people mention this phenomenon. The problem got so bad in our home, that about a decade ago, my husband announced that he was taking over the washing of his own laundry. He was convinced that the missing sock problem was directly related to a flaw in my laundering technique.
This problem has plagued me for years and over time, I began a practice of saving the un-matched sock in a plastic sack along with other un-matched socks. Then, once every couple of months, I would dump the sack out and look for matches. Every now and then, I'd manage to match up one or two pairs but never more than that. After a long length of time had passed, I would eventually dispose of the sack and start the whole procedure over. But I was always baffled by the idea that somewhere in my house, there should be an equal-sized pile of missing socks. Where in the world were these socks going? SERIOUSLY! Where? WHERE??!! I could understand if one or two remained missing...... but a couple of pounds worth? They would be taking up some serious space somewhere and search as I might, I could never find them.
Three months ago, I bought a package of six pairs of socks and I determined, most definitely, that these socks would never lose their partners. I have been diligent! Before throwing them down the laundry chute, I fold them together. I take them apart as I put them in the washing machine. I remove them to the dryer with the utmost care. And once the dryer shuts off, I immediately carry them to the bedroom and match and fold them.
Occasionally, it has happened that one goes missing. When this happens, all other household life grinds to a halt while I search for the missing sock. I look in the interior corners of both the washing machine and the dryer. I retrace my steps from the laundry room, searching the floor for the escapee. I pick up and shake each article of clothing that was in the dryer, looking at the front and back in case a sock is clinging there. And I have always been successful in finding the little rascal. Until last month.
A black sock went missing and I went high order looking for it! I spent two hours searching the basement and the bedroom. When none of my regular procedures produced the missing sock, I started in with drastic, ridiculous measures. I moved my bed away from the wall, in case the sock had tumbled there when I threw my laundry pile on the bed. I retraced my steps from the basement looking under furniture in case it had managed to drop and roll. I pulled the washer and dryer out from the wall thinking maybe it had jumped loose when I was removing the laundry from the washing machine and putting it in the dryer. I even looked down the walls of the laundry chute, thinking maybe it was clinging to the wall there in spite of the fact that I had a clear memory of unfolding the pair when placing them in the washing machine.
I eventually had to give up. The sock was nowhere to be found. I now had proven to myself that there was indeed some sort of supernatural, unexplainable phenomenon going on related to socks and laundry and I left the newly single sock laying on my dresser as a reminder.
This morning, I decided to wear a sweater as there is a bit of a chill in the air. As I was pulling my purple sweater jacket on, my hand hit an obstruction half-way through the right sleeve. Baffled, I removed my hand and looked inside. Guess what I found all scrunched up and hiding INSIDE the arm of my sweater? Finally reunited, the pair of them is on my feet as I sit and type this post.
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