What you are looking at are my socks. Not just socks, but orphaned socks. No, I don't like white socks. When I was little, I never wore socks at all...as a result, my shoes smelled really, really bad. Eventually, I decided that wearing socks was acceptable, but only if they were colorful. So, there you have it. But I digress. What I want to know is, where the socks go exactly. When I was younger and my mother did my laundry, I always blamed her for the missing socks (sorry, Mom). I assumed that one of the socks would get mixed up with someone else's laundry and that the missing sock in question was probably in that pile of unmatched socks that accumulates in the laundry room. I never looked to prove or disprove this theory because the times that you think about socks are really limited to when you put them on, so I would forget. But now, I live alone. I do my own laundry, and my socks still disappear. I usually figure that one got washed before the other, or some other momentary excuse as I matched my socks because as I said, socks don't get a lot of time in our worlds. This is where I think they have found a loop hole. I have come to the conclusion that there must be a sock underground railroad and they are making their way to sock colonies underground that we have yet to discover. I think because we have such fleeting and temporary thoughts about socks that their cohorts distract us by silently saying, "look at me...I'm a matched pair. Don't worry about the missing sock in question, you need socks to wear, you're running late, and here we are." I just feel bad for the socks left behind. I mean, look at them. Did they lose the coin toss? how do they chose who goes and who stays? or are they coming back for these?
All I'm saying is, where the hell do the socks go?
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