All I want out of life is one (1) pair of socks. Not even a pair. They don’t have to match. I don’t care if one has a grey bottom and is a crew sock while the other has a gold toe and is a footie. I just want two (2) socks.
When I started doing laundry I had socks.
Each load of laundry contained socks.
But I take a shower and look for socks. No socks. I dig through every scrap of laundry. No socks.
Someone has stolen my goddamn socks and they are going to regret it!
Julie–currently wearing one crew sock and one kneehigh nylon under her shoes
Was this at your home, at an apartment complex laundry room, or a laundromat? Who the heck would steal only the socks?
It IS possible they have finally evolved into a new life form: I organized all of my office supplies, and now have one and a half shoebox-sized storage boxes worth of pens (ballpoint, stick, and gels). These are the ones that still write, so they must have been a matched pair in their previous incarnation. I threw away about 50 non-working pens, so these must have previously been the single/unmatched, holey, or stretched-beyond-belief-kneesocks-that-hug-yer-ankles socks that are completely unwearable. So, it is likely that I have your socks, and they have found a new purpose in life.
You didn’t mention whether or not you had made the proper prayers and sacrifices to the Sock God. Did you forget the inscense or the chanting? Remember, regular appeasement of this mighty Being ensures that your socks will remain, whole, healthy, and paired.
Yea, verily, today shall be known as “All Soles’ Day”, where the the sick shall be heeled, and the weary shall be comfor-toed. The rest will be darned to heck.
My mother would say that this is a Sign from God that jsgoddess is supposed to go sockless.
Now me, back when I used to wear socks, I’d buy six or a dozen pairs of the exact same kind of socks. And I mean EXACTLY the same, I wouldn’t buy the packages of multiple pairs that were similar, but had a different stripe at the top. This way, when one got lost or worn out, I could still make five or eleven pairs of socks.
I don’t wear regular socks these days, it’s either compression stockings or I have elastic bandages wrapped around my legs.
Be careful. There are a lot of sickos out there. The next time you see some guy walking down the street with your socks in his hand sniffing them with a look of pure satisfaction on his face, I suggest you revaluate the path you are taking down the road.
The sole motivation for me to actually finish laundry duties is gleefully throwing out all the leftover sock orphans. I know, I know, I’m sure Martha could come up with 42 perfectly good ways to recycle single socks, but I wouldn’t get the sheer joy outta throwing them away then, see?
Then, when one of the random fellas turns up somewhere later, I don’t have to wonder if there’s a mate somewhere and can just chuck that one too. This method, while it does wonders for the soul, surely leads to a marked increase in sock purchases. My little part of helping the cotton farmers, charity begins at home.
Do you have cats? One of our cats, Piper Grace has been known to steal stray socks she finds in the laundry. I’ve caught her carrying them around from time to time.
Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard? The dryer shoots them out the dryer vent hose, out of the vent and up into the sky. That just HAS to be where they go, because I too have sock orphans and spend inordinate amounts of time trying to match up mine, the hubbies and the kids socks!
Or, conversely, some little sock munchkin eater sneaks in, shoves them down his pants, and then gleefully scampers off with them.
There is no logical explanation and those are the theories I’m stickin’ with.
PUPPET TIME!!!