“It’s a blanket, just a blanket…” (Tyler Durden)
See here for more.
A duvet cover is like a very big pillow case (for the duvet), and,yes, is occasionally known to eat socks in the dryer.
A duvet is what we Yoorpeans sleep under - it’s a big soft quilt, with a thin cotton cover over it.
Conservation of household objects.
Can I have some? My hangers dribble away, but I have a million spare screws I feel something will fall apaart without soon I can trade 
Just don’t buy duvet covers in Africa or the red dye will be all over your bed, up your walls and everywhere else. So I’ve heard.
Isn’t that right, Jjimm? 
It was India, but yes, this is sincerely true.
<Sunspace sticks hand up>
My hangars are few but apparently stable in number. I’d be willing to trade a few screws for elastics, though… I have an enormous number of elastics that arrived at my apartment wrapped around newspapers. I’ve been throwing them in the junk drawer, but I think that they’ve reached critical mass and are now breeding, because they’re starting to show up all over the apartment…
Obviously there’s some sort of minimum number of the item required before these strange household quantum-effects appear.
It’s with the other dollar.
I think that the Missing Socks Effect is due to what physicists refer to as Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. Simply put, the Uncertainty Principle states that if we choose to know the position of an electron at any point in time, then we cannot know the velocity of said electron. If we know the precise velocity of an electron, we cannot know the position. Of course, these effects are most pronounced at very high degrees of accuracy in regards to position or veolcity.
So, apparently what happens is that you (or the washer, or the dryer) accidentally calculated the velocity of the sock so precisely (I’m talking down to hundreds of decimal places here), that the sock could theoretically be anywhere in the universe.
** Sunspace ** wrote:
You may be on to something there, after all it was a 2 week supply of socks I was washing. As for hangers, I don’t have enough, hangers is the best way to hang up a garment to dry, especially T-shirts. They don’t wrinkle. I swear though, when I find this sock I will let you all know. It has to be around there somewhere !
Actually, it is a well established scientific fact that paper clips are in fact the larval form of the coat hanger.
MonkeyMensch’s reference to paper clips reminds me that in my own case, at least, paper clips are prone to the same auto-disappearing act as odd socks. Ditto normal biro pens. I must have bought dozens and dozens of them, and I doubt I’ve ever actually used up a single one. I think boggarts are very fond of paper clips and biros.
Another very worthwhile theory is that proposed by author Mary Norton, who wrote a series of books about The Borrowers. These are small-ish people who co-exist with us. They are never seen, and they never steal, but they do borrow things from time to time. Of course, these books are usually passed off a mere children’s fiction. But I think we know better. Norton is probably a cutting-edge investigative scientist, and the ‘novels’ are probably her research papers.
But what I want to know is why some socks never go missing. I have a large cane basket that is absolutely chockers with odd socks, and three paired ones. These pairs have been around for years, and they’ve never worn out or gotten lost. They are also the damned ugliest socks in the universe. One is ‘baby-poo’ yellow in colour, and the other two are multicoloured stripey things.
Of course, nobody wants to wear them, but they do regularly go through the washing machine and dryer which should, by all accounts, result in them being sucked into the great void. But the buggers won’t get lost.
Perhaps they’re so ugly that even the Spacewarp spits them back.
The other question is What to do with the odd socks that you now have?
My own answer to that question is to just send them through the laundry again and again. Theretically they should act as “bait” and get sucked up, sparing the truly important matched pairs.
(but then, as kambuckta mentions, some socks seem to be able to avoid this syndrome.)
I believe I told you people in the “Thread of Wild Medacious Boasting” That I do not lose socks. Not only do I not lose them… the ones YOU lose come to ME!!!
I am having all joor loose single, unmatch-ed, sock-like thingees! Bow before me!
sorry… I got a little carried away.
carry on.
I believe it was Avram Davidson who observed that the coat hanger is then considered the pupa stage of english racing style bicycles.
Kambuckta, I may be able to help. I previously explained the principle of Universal Sock Non-parity. An interesting feature of this principle is that it only applies when you don’t want it to, and doesn’t apply if you do want it to.
There is a parallel here with ‘intermittent fault’ syndrome. You have been asked to perform a fairly simple repetitive task on your computer. You know what to do, you do it, but it screws up almost every time. You keep trying, but the intermittent fault kicks in about 90% of the time.
So you start pulling your hair out with frustration, and call someone for help. As soon as you try to demonstrate the fault, the computer behaves perfectly and delivers 100% flawless results. You protest that “Well, it kept going wrong before, honest”. The other person makes some patronising remark about ‘it’s a bad workman who blames his tools’ and then walks away with a very dim view of your competence. As soon as you’re own your own again, the computer starts screwing up again.
This is a very well-known phenomenon which plagues many lives every single day. You can have faulty plumbing or wiring which makes your life hell every single day… except the day the work man turns up to examine the problem, when it suddenly behaves perfectly.
Likewise with a faulty gadget or gizmo. You take it back to the shop for repair, refund or replacement, and the man in the shop asks to see what the problem is. Suddenly, the gizmo or gadget is mysteriously non-faulty. You get it back home… faulty again.
They are, of course, offerings to the Invisible Pink Unicorn . ;^)
I don’t think anyone has mentioned this… have you checked behind the washer?
[hijack]
Icarus, Thank you, thank you, thank you. I was going a little nuttier trying to remember the author of that short story.
[/hijack]
As for the socks conundrum, I am certain that the number of missing socks is exactly equal to the number of single shoes on the highways. It’s necessary to keep the universe in balance.
OTOH, I always feel a little sad for the remaining sock, since they do mate for life. It’s a rare widowed sock that finds a compatible second mate. And even then the new pairing never has that original crispness. They’re the last pair picked before laundry day, and usually one of them just slumps dejectedly around your ankle. The new mate always tries to put up a brave front, standing staunchly up near your calf, but it’s just a show. It knows that all too soon, it will be shoved to back of the drawer, with nothing more than a slim hope of being used to apply car wax or shoe polish some day. But you can change all that! Just send your cash or money orders (no checks, please) to Save Our Socks, care of Rhubarb. Our crack team of laundry experts are toiling day and night to find a solution to this all-important problem that doesn’t involve toxic chemicals, weapons of mass destruction or inexpensive mesh zipper bags. As an additional bonus, your donation will help fund the Roadside Shoe Assistance Program where photos of the errant footwear are posted in hopes of re-uniting the footless couple. Don’t hesitate, act now to end this senseless loss of hosiery. Give 'til it helps me.
Has anyone else noticed that it’s usually the right sock that goes missing? After all, the remaining sock is left.
I’ve found a solution to that problem. Threaten the machine. For example, when my television starts to mess up, I hit it. If it starts up again, I remind it what I did last time, then everything is back to normal.