Life is a colossal book of unanswered questions, mysteries and philosophies to ponder. Where did we come from, why am I here, where do we go when we die, do all good dogs really go to heaven? But that looming question, the one that haunts me and I think every other living person on a much more regular basis, the same one that man has been baffled by since the beginning of time (or since he started wearing clothes) "Where in the hell is my other friggin sock?"
You remember the night well, undressing, taking off your shoes, pulling off one sock at a time, tossing them into the dirty clothes basket. So why is it that on laundry day, when the wash cycle is done and the transfer takes place to the dryer, somewhere between the "switch", the sock is out the door. Literally. MIA. You go back to the washing machine, rub your hand around the rim and the tub, searching, nothing to be found. No lone sock hiding up against the dryer wall. Back to the pile of clothes you have thrown on the bed, shake them out, run your hand in the legs of pants, arms of shirts, just in case that evil villan static electricity is holding one hostage, but nothing. Checking under the bed, in the shoe, in the trash, perhaps you were a lousy shot and missed the laundry basket in the beginning. As good a disappearing act as Houdini himself.
My sock drawer is like a singles nightclub. There are a few coupled up, entwined in one another, but the majority are just hanging out, waiting to find their match, that Mr. or Mrs. Right. I am a believer that there is a sock for everyone. It is just a matter of time before the right one shows up. But until then, it can be mind boggling. I mean, it's not as bad as misplacing your car keys or reading glasses, because there is always a pair or two among the dozen or so onsies in the drawer that will do until the others safe return. All I can say is thank God you don't need them for anything more than to warm and protect your feet, like to start the car for example ~ you would then become witness to me starring in the new Tyler Perry film, Diary of a mad white woman.
But as another big birthday of mine is soon approaching I am trying to focus on what is important, what needs my time, deserves my attention. I think I am going to have to let this sock thing go, just leave this mystery to be solved by the universe, future generations. Like my almond milk, toothpaste, gasoline and most things in life, I guess I will just have to replenish my sock stash on a very regular basis. Instead of looking at each lone survivor sock as a misfit, with frustration and disgust, I will celebrate their independence ~ find new uses, check Pinterest for new ideas. I'm sure there is always a market for a recycled hand duster or a good hand puppet.