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Sunday, February 11, 2007

I Call on the Power of the Internet!


I was putting my laundry away today and was again confronted with my single charcoal grey sock. I've been holding onto it now for four months, stubbornly and brightly hoping that its mate will turn up. After all, how far can it go? My house is a modest little Cape Cod-ish affair: a story-and-a-half little thing with the washer and dryer in the basement. I drag the clothing from my hamper down one flight of steps to the machine. The washer is snugged right up to the dryer! There is no vast, cavernous canyon anywhere in the route. EmilyCat and TravisCat are far too urbane, sophisticated, and lazy to interact with human clothing, be it dirty or clean. I must traverse the same route back as I took to the laundry area, so I would have seen it had I dropped it.

As soon as I noticed it was missing, I scoured the area, the hamper (in case I had inadvertently left it behind), and rechecked the appliances. When that proved fruitless, I interrogated the residents. No success. That was more than 120 days ago, and still I grieve.

I loved that pair of socks. They match my platinum wash Levis perfectly. They are comfortable and stretchy and are the exact right height. They require no cuffing, nor do they roll down on their own or leave horrid red bindy marks. They are tastefully wide-ribbed, but not noticeably so.

Finding this sock has become an obsession. Every once in a while, I re-interrogate the suspects here at The Dept. I stare them down. I say things like, "Have you looked in your drawers, just in case?" or "Hey! When you clean your room this week, be on the lookout for that grey sock of mine!" or "I'm coming upstairs and if I find that grey sock someone is in serious trouble!" or "Whoever finds Mommy's grey sock gets $20 from Daddy!"

In January my hope was renewed by news of the boy in St. Louis Missouri who was recovered after being missing for four years. Wow! I thought, that's a whole kid, and my sock has only been missing for three months!

So, I'm going to post the picture of my missing sock here, right here on The Internet, in case any of you can help track it down. Or, maybe one of you has a match and would be willing to give it up to make my pair complete. And, just as a "Hail Mary," I''m adding a picture of my missing khaki sock, too. It went missing a long time ago under equally mysterious circumstances. I don't miss it as much, but I figure what the heck? But that charcoal grey one...seriously, it's a major Wardrobe Player for me. A first-stringer. Oh, I've bought a new pair, but they're not ribbed. You know how much that little detail means.


(Rick did the scanning for me, and I didn't want to get too fussy with him about styling the socks to best show off their attributes.)

Now, let me clearly state for the record that I am not accusing any of you of harboring the Fugitive Socks. I am only seeking help in locating these wayward accessories, and, should they wish to find their way home, would be only too happy to welcome them with open...er...geeze, that would be awkward, to extend that metaphor...heart and no questions asked.

7 comments:

  1. V-Grrrl5:11 PM

    I saw your sock on a one-legged man in Rome! It was sobbing quietly, disgusted it had become transgender in its trans-Atlantic flight. It was distributing posters featuring photos of your dresser drawer and the platinum wash jeans to English-speaking tourists near the Trevi Fountain. It WANTS to come home, but it lost its passport and needs a ride in someone's suitcase. So sad!

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  2. I can't say that I've seen that particular sock, but if you give me the exact details (brand, type, size, anything else, etc.) I will keep an eye out in stores and try to find you a new ribbed pair.

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  3. Anonymous10:15 PM

    I have an ARMY friend who knows interrogation techniques...maybe he could come over and talk with your family? Let me just say that it is my experience that missing socks in my house are usually found with a dog...maybe your kitties aren't so innocent? Nina

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  4. v--sigh. I love a good story. You had me at "Rome."

    ih--you are a sweetie. I cannot remember if I got them originally at Target or Penney's, but you know me: I want my sock.

    Nina--innocent, no. Lazy and too complacent to stoop to something so blase as "playing", yes. maybe you could just come get the cats, period. lol.

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  5. Just for the record, I have at least half a dozen unfound socks that have been lining the bottom of my laundry basket for over a year now. I have also rounded up the ususal suspects, but it's a rather hopeless battle since I have moved house twice in the last year.

    As for your sockmates, they might well be found in the following places:

    1. Under the dryer. (As opposed to between the dryer and the washer or behind the dryer.)

    2. Wadded up in a ball in the corner of a fitted sheet you haven't used since you lost the sock.

    3. Try Walmart. I am certain I saw a near cousin to that sock there just last week.

    4. Forget the Hail Mary. Pray to St. Antony, Patron Saint of Lost Objects.

    Anxiously awaiting Good News.

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  6. Hey, that grey sock looks familiar... I mean, uh, no, I've never seen it in my life. : )

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  7. O'tizz--under the dryer...what genius! I will try that immediately. if I run into a bonanza of missing items, I will beatify you myself. However, as far as the Wal*mart connection--NEVER! That place is anathema to me. I haven't been near that place for a decade, and doubt anything that has been on or near my body would without bursting into flames, either. And #4 just made me laugh and laugh.

    Anali---hey...!

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