85 The Mystery of the missing sock
Don’t you hate it when you lose one sock? It would be better if the two of them went
walkabout then I would not have that constant reminder that there is something
missing. You put them into the washing machine together and you remember
pegging them on to the line together. If you are anything like me you like to
see them pegged side by side on the line. After all they are partners and
should stick together. Then when it
comes to folding all the laundry to put it away in the draws or cupboards one
of those pesky foot covers has done a bunk and left it’s other half alone and
lonely.
After double checking the laundry – maybe it never got to
the clothes line – maybe it slipped down beside the washing machine drum or got
left in the laundry basket – one starts looking in places you know from
experience that they can get into. I remember once I found a small multi coloured sock of mine caught
edge of a fitted sheet. Whether it got
caught there accidentally or whether it was hiding away from it partner after
they had quarreled I am not in a position to judge but I only discovered it
when I went to use that particular sheet quite some time latter. I have also,
when I have had to dry my washing in the tumble dryer found them stuck to other
clothes due to the static that the dryer seems to generate, and sometimes they
like to shelter in the leg of a pair of trousers. Then I start looking in all the silly places, under the lounge chairs and
behind the fridge.
The deserted partner
is placed on the dresser in the bedroom
or somewhere else that “ I can find it when the other one turns up” and there
it lays until someone decides it is
getting in the way and moves it into a
draw or something. Then I discover it one day and am so glad to think I have
found it and go looking for its partner
again only to realize that this is not the runaway but the poor abandoned stay-at-home
and so I consider throwing it away. Of
course being me I can’t do that, I have to find the scoundrel. Of course I don’t spend every waking moment
searching as my mother taught me that it was a waste of time to search for any
things. She used to say “after a quick look, give up. If it is still around it
will turn up and if it is lost, it is lost and no amount of searching will
discover it”. Wise words from my Mom!
No, I am not so poor
that the lost of one sock, which of course is to all intend and purposes the
same as losing the whole pair is a huge loss in my life but I really have a
thing about it. Maybe it stems from the time when living in Africa with rather
unreliable servants doing the laundry we thought that one missing sock meant that
the laundry maid knew where the partner was and was just waiting for us to
throw away our single sock so she could match them both together and give them
a new home. Well no servants now so I know that the disappearance is entirely
my own fault and hate to let it go.
A couple of weeks ago I lost one of my husband’s work socks,
just thick black and hardwearing socks. I was so sure that I had pegged four of
them on to the line but when it came to putting them away there were only
three. I went through all the usual searches, my husband who thought it was a
huge joke and as he has three pairs exactly the same he kept taking another
matching one and depositing it in strategic places around the house so that I
would find it and shout with glee “I’ve found the other sock” only to discover
that this was not the missing one at all and we still only had five individual
socks and not the six that were supposed to be there.
Well the week went by and after a day or two of ‘searching’
I just went into “eyes open’ mode. Not actively searching for the offender but
keeping my eyes open for it. The next Monday there was of course more washing
to be done and as I started to peg the first load out on the line I put my hand
into the peg bag and felt something soft and fluffy. Yes, you guessed it. Now I
have another place to add to my list of places that runaway socks hang out just
to annoy me.
Is anyone else as crazy as me? Or am I alone in my madness?