I had a basket in the laundry room for partnerless socks. It seemed like after each load of laundry, I would have to add one or two to the collection. The basket gradually filled to almost overflowing. Occasionally, I would go through the basket to see if I could come up with any matches. And usually, with an oddly pleasurable sense of victory, I would come up with a pair or two.
It was a system and it worked for me.
As for the rest of the orphaned socks that continued to build up over many months, well, to be honest, I didn't like to think about them. As stated in my previous journal entries, there just seems to be no answer as to what happens to them.
Then, one day, I was folding a load of wash that my dear, sweet, darling, adorable husband had put through the washer and dryer for me. As I was matching the socks, I realized something unprecidented was afoot. I had about 50 socks with no matches. How could this be? Carefully, I laid them all out on the sofa. I arranged them in categories based on owner and style.
What was going on?
Had my home suddenly become the center of a Bermuda Triangle of socks? I felt a bit of a chill and got that creepy feeling, like someone was watching me. How did so many socks disappear in one day?
It took a while for the facts to add up. My husband had thrown all the (clean) mis-matched socks from the stray sock basket into the washer with a load of normal, un-cursed laundry.
But why? Was he somehow in on this? Was he purposely causing me sock angst to distract me from the truth? Why?
Later that day I asked him. "Why did you throw all the mis-match socks into the washer? You know, I don't have time for this crap."
His answer, "I dunno. I thought it would help you find matches."
Help me find matches?
My husband is an idiot.
Or is he?

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I knew it!! There is a conspiracy!!!
- momofne
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