Where the missing socks go!

I have been pondering the problem of missing socks.  I do not remember it as a problem in my child hood, or even when my daughters were children. However for the last twenty years the issue of missing socks has been causing me immense grief.  The plot is simple; I purchase a pair of socks that I like.  I wear them once.  They go in the wash.  When I fold the laundry ….. not pair of socks but rather a sad, dejected singleton. 

Then the search is on.  I check every item from the dryer; perhaps the sock is caught up inside another garment.  Fantastic, I find the other in a pajama leg. But that only happened once.  My other places to look include; in the washer, the path from my room to the laundry, in my closet ( where the clothes hamper lives), in my bed, beside my bed, under my bed, in the bathroom and yes even in the drawer with my clean socks.  And I have found missing socks in all of those places – once for each place!

I lose about three socks a week, roughly one hundred and fifty a year, doing the math I have lost at least five thousand socks in the twenty five years I have lived in my home!   This is a major problem. I Goggled “missing socks”, 46,100,000 hits (in 0.15 seconds).  This is a problem of epidemic proportions.

We have all heard the excuse “the dryer, or substitute washer, ate it”.  Once I had appliance repair man disassemble both of my laundry machines.  And what did he find in the empty space between the frame and the drums?  Not one sock!  Another explanation shot down.

The sock war began, I would be the victor.  I purchased all black socks and tossed my collection of short, medium and talls; striped, checked and colours.  I did well for a while, then what had been five pairs or ten socks soon dwindled to seven. Fine, I would purchase more.  The original style was not available.   Now I had blacks to mix and match. If I paired two that were a different style they were uncomfortable to wear.  And the dilemma continues.

My granddaughter could not live with such stress. By the time she was eight she declared socks are socks and hers never match.  The man of the house has subscribed to the colour rule and has blacks and whites.  He is a man; they will make his styles forever.

Compression socks are currently my constant companions. They stay up and my neuropathic pain stays down.  I have two pairs, not the hundred dollar prescription type, but the $10.99 type from Wal-Mart. Whatever; they work.  I am very protective of these and have had them for all most a year.  How have they survived the fate of their cousins? 

I am relieved that No one Asked me    where the missing socks go; because I certainly do not know.  However, I do know that within a few days of disposing of a singleton……… the mate will reappear!