How have we managed to accumulate a collection of socks that refuse to match?
Is there a secret sock-lover lurking in our house?
A rat with a warm bed to sleep in at night?
Has Chris Reilly, a good friend of mine who once or twice borrowed socks while travelling, paid us a visit without telling us?
Does our washing machine or dryer (shared with the rest of our building) have a penchant for fine knit blue woollen socks with little criss-cross patterns along the side of the foot?
Or, rather more New Labour… is one side of each sock couple having problems and is the government failing to provide enough social care or support to young married sock couples? Should we instead be looking to change the minimum sock wage or the first year that socks can claim their pensions?
Maybe, as Ana will no doubt suggest (our emerging theological commentator on all things random), one sock has, after acknowledging it’s fallen nature, living without reference or respect to its creator God and without true freedom in life, decided to abandon life in it’s inherited community of socks in the cupboard and has set off on a voyage of discovery. Starting with a 5-storey abseil to the carpark below.
In situations like this, I think its only appropriate to blame Tim. And possibly Kez… my former flatmates.
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June 14th, 2006 at 5:59 am
We object to the blame. Plea Not Guilty!
Woof!
June 14th, 2006 at 9:19 am
No, no - it isn’t any of those (although 4 is close). It’s the well known fact that all washing machines have a hyperintergalacticquantofootwarmerrestribution mechanism that swaps socks with other washing machines around the world. Note that it always does this to ensure you end up with odd socks. It doesn’t ever transfer a sock that is already odd (so there’s no point in putting in an odd one as a sacrifice).
By now, you’ve surely noticed that socks you’ve never seen before turn up in your washing machine. This is the other half of the process.