I’m currently doing laundry but taking a break to discuss an important matter.
I wear them once and they seemingly disappear into thin air, never to be reunited with their mate ever again. In that respect, they are disposable: use once and throw away.
But the thing is that I don’t throw them away. They just never come back once in the laundry, as if they were trapped here longing for a more meaningful relationship with my feet and I just couldn’t provide it, so one made a run for it.
Granted, I shouldn’t complain too much about the wearing of socks during the summer months in California since I tend to wear one of my four pairs of flip-flops* during said period of time, but come on. YOU HAD ONE JOB, SOCKS.
It’s also worth mentioning that the only pairs of socks that do find their mates are always my black ones, or the ones I wear to work. The whites – I wear those for running – and greys are gone, gone, gone. This was even after I went through a bunch of mismatched pairs and threw them out, replacing them with eight new pairs of New Balance socks.
No dice. Maybe my socks are trying to tell me something: work more and run less.
We even tried a lingerie bag in the hopes of keeping them together, but the bag’s zipper was snagging all my pantyhose so I had to stop using it. Ahem.
At any rate, yeah. You just read a blog post about my socks.
I just wonder if the great Harry Houdini this problem.