For those who share my frustration and bewilderment about where socks go, I have a partial solution. I asked our cleaning lady, Maria, to keep an eye peeled. She came up from the basement a while later, triumphant holding the missing sock. I sent an email to my whole family saying, Rejoice! Maria found the missing sock. Now I know where they go. Up a pant leg where they hibernate. (Though I swear I did look there, sort of, wrong trousers I guess). Here they are, happily reunited. One great mystery solved. Our daughter replied, “Well, that is beyond exciting.” To which I responded: Well I think it is exciting because I won’t have to shell out all that money (3 for $24 Can) to buy another pair for some while. Incidentally, I found another pair that were brown but masquerading as black.  Here they are, happily reunited. The one on the left is smiling and sighing with relief.