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.
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I am very happy for the socks. It is good that they get to be together for the holidays. Nothing worse than depressed socks who cant get their job done.
The one on the right says he loves you. Or, As we used to say, “socket to me”!