The Secret Life Of Lost Socks

Turns out washing machines aren’t losing them…
they’re recruiting for a sock utopia

If you happen to have a very powerful telescope with
the mind bending ability to do things no other telescope
can do, then you should peer into it and I think you’ll
find that there’s a parallel universe made entirely of
lost socks…

How do I know this?

They end up in this universe every washing machine
cycle, which is their equivalent of a wardrobe leading
out into Narnia… and let me tell you right here and now,
they are absolutely ‘mad for it’ (especially the Mancunian socks).

Whatever is behind that invisible door hiding at the
back of the washing machine, has the same magnetic
attraction that catnip has on felines.

I’ve reached the stage where I’m hesitant to put a pair
of socks in a laundry cycle, because I know that probably
only one is coming back.

The Lone Ranger sock.

They’ll end up putting medals on these things and
talking about them in future as the sock raiders who
used to take part in daring missions.

“Sorry Sir, we lost him just as he was approaching
the end of the fast spin cycle“.

It has also occurred to me that this may be the
perfect time for socks to elope with another sock
who also had the same idea.

Do socks end up in a sock equivalent of
Gretna Green?

I just looked up shotgun weddings and Google said
it’s illegal to force someone to marry another person
at gunpoint.

So I scrapped that idea! *chortle*

Maybe it’s just a secret society of odd socks,
living the high life in a kind of sock utopia
in a place where mere mortals can never find
them.

I can just picture them now, lying flat on a sun
lounger (no other way they can lie down) waiting
for the sock waiter to appear with another ‘socktail’.

All these odd socks have probably got together
and formed their own government. The prime minister
is a knee-high striped one of course and the one that
everyone likes before they actually become the Prime
Minister is a fluffy Christmas special.

I know socks don’t sit, but if they did, they would all
be sitting there pissing themselves at the notion of us
feverishly looking through drawers trying to pair them
up when they’ve already long since made their perfect
getaway.

There’s a film out there called SockShank Redemption,
but none of us have ever seen it as it’s a cult film for socks
with ambition for a better life. Rumour has it, they even
enjoy SockCorn whilst viewing it.

I’m not going to lie, socks that disappear without
telling me first, is something of a niggle to me,
especially if I was fond of ‘said sock’.

Yes, it’s true. I am fonder of certain sock pairings
more than others. I can’t quite put my finger on
what makes me emotionally attached to certain socks,
but it’s usually a pattern that makes all the difference.

Nobody is ever going to miss a plain black or white sock,
are they? But what about those ones that have a bit of
flair, an assortment of stripes or the odd dash of colour.

Those are the ones worth remembering, and the pairs
I end up searching for.

Wherever they end up, I hope they have a good life.

The socks that go missing stick in your head longer than
the ones still in the drawer, don’t they?

Maybe it’s because we don’t like
unfinished stories.

When you think about it, whenever you put a pair of
socks on they go on a journey with you. They have no
choice really (well, not until they elope with another
sock during a washing cycle).

Maybe some of these socks just don’t feel appreciated
and say to themselves, “When this guy stops walking on
me, I’m going to find a way out next time I’m in the washing
machine. You’ll see.”

And my gosh, don’t they just; those socks with attitude.

Thanks for reading… and if you see a society of socks
out in the wild, tell them I’d quite like mine back.

Even if it’s just my favourite stripey one.

Let’s play this one out with “These Boots Are Made For Walkin'”
by Nancy Sinatra…