It was about time I went sock shopping. My current stash in the far left drawer has been dwindling down to a fearful number, most of them worn out veterans with grossly stretched tops or shameful holes. I found this pack of 7 pairs at Rue 21. Fruity mustaches (or hairy fruit) I call it. I think they’re fun!
But I’m scared of the day where these facial-haired feet companions will go missing (or should I say, one will disappear while the other one waits fruitlessly for its mate…pun intended). Now, this happens to us all. The case of the missing sock. Where do they go??? We’ve all pondered on the matter (some of us even lose sleep over it). One urban myth claims that they get stuck inside of the washing drain and the dryer hose (simply ludicrous) while another claims that tiny gnomes live in caverns underneath your laundry appliances and collect socks to use for trade/currency (hm, this one is actually believable). Maybe they fly out through the little dryer holes and live out the rest of their lint-covered lives in sock land (unmolested by feet or canine jaws). Either that or the dryer is holding them for ransom.
But the best myth yet: Socks become cannibalistic when exposed to heat. Ding ding ding!
(I’m finding some of these amazing sock myths at http://www.squidoo.com/SacrificialFacts)
Ahh, I guess we’ll never know. What’s my personal belief on the case of the missing sock, you ask? I am almost certain that it involves the rapture.