Last Sunday evening, I tossed the orange Thanksgiving socks onto the floor. The next morning, one of the socks was missing. I didn’t think anything of it since I might have mindlessly picked it up and tossed it in the clothes basket.
After we took the clothes from the dryer and put them on the bed for folding, the orange sock remained missing. I checked the washer and dryer again. No sock.
We checked inside each piece of clothing–was it tucked in a shirt arm or pants leg? No sock.
Maybe I absentmindedly tossed it in a drawer or a bag. I began to search the most likely places. No sock.
Tuesday, when I was home alone, the missing sock reappeared on the floor beside my chair in the office. I have no idea how it got there.
I don’t know where it went or why it ended up on the floor. Was it part of the urban legend that either the washer or the dryer is a portal to a sock parallel universe?
My favorite missing sock story is by a classmate in a children’s writing class. In her story, the main character was a boy who was very proud of his sock collection, with special socks for almost every occasion in his life. A one legged monster lived under his bed and would steal one of his socks occasionally to keep her leg warm. She was tracking the family’s life in a notebook for her boss. I can’t remember the title of the story or who wrote it, but if she ever gets it published, I think it would be an entertaining and highly original children’s story.
Sock reappeared as if by magic. A gift from the sock fairies?