The Joy of Socks

Hark yonder socks! Where doest art thou goest whilst thou art cleansed and dryethd?

It's Sunday laundry day and I've just folded the last of the five loads.  Alas! to no surprise -- there remain three lone socks -- no mates in sight. I retrace my steps, tear the cushions off the sofa and dive in for a recon mission. I came up empty handed.

*Lightbulb moment*  I crawl leap up the stairs on all fours, struggling to keep all panting to a minimum, scour every closet, search every cabinet  and dive under the beds. Where the heck did all this crap come from? I found things that have been MIA for ages, but only one bachelorette sock. And this minor victory brought me way too much excitement. I return to the random sock bag, smug with anticipation of a match. It was premature. No such luck. Instead, I had yet another addition to the collection.

The random sock collection is growing at an alarming rate. Where do socks go when you put them in the dryer -- sock heaven? What to do with this plastic bag of colours, textures, fabrics, and sizes?? How many sock puppets does one need? I am reluctant to toss them, fearful that the moment I do, the mate will surface. But it's been years now, and it's time to move on and part ways with my random sock bag. It won't be easy ... cause breaking up is hard to do.