Socks, Socks, Everywhere…

But no socks to wear!

For the life of me, I don’t understand how I am left with 11 unpaired socks:

Missing socks is one of those everyday mysteries in life I’ve been trying to come to terms with since the beginning of my adulthood, (for reason that as a child I never really cared whether my socks did match or not). I have always suspected the presence of a wormhole in my room, you know that space-time highway where the stuff that you just can’t find when you are looking for it travel thru, but pops out of nowhere when you stopped giving a shit about it.

Well, I thought the missing pairs just went through that wormhole that’s why all these time I kept the other pairs just in case their partners pop out again. But never did I imagine that there probably is a blackhole lurking in my room, sucking things up without any intention of spitting them out back.

But anyway, just in case, the missing pairs pop out of non-existence, I don’t want to take any chances and make sure that their partners are still there in the closet waiting for them (with no chance of escaping if Seinfeld’s prisonbreak theory about missing socks holds true):

I’m especially waiting for the return of the missing pair of the striped Björn Borg socks which I got as a birthday gift a few months ago. It went missing after today’s laundry time!

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Now, let me share you a transcript from a Seinfeld episode about those “fugitive” socks:

[JERRY back on-stage in the comedy club]

Laundry Day is the only Exciting Day in the Life of Clothes. It is. No, think about it. The washing machine is the nightclub of clothes. You, know, it’s dark, there’s bubbles happening, they’re all kind of dancin’ around in there. Shirt grabs the underwear, “Come on, babe, let’s go.” You come by, you open up the lid, they all [he freezes].

Socks are the most amazing article of clothing. They hate their lives; they’re in the shoes with stinky feet, the boring drawers. The dryer is their only chance to escape an’ they all know it. They do escape from the dryer–they plan it in the hamper, the night before. “Tomorrow. The Dryer. I’m goin’.”

“You wait here.”

The Dryer door swings open, the sock is waiting up against the side wall. [stands like a guy standing flat against a wall, looking left and right, cautious] He hopes you don’t see him, an’ he goes down the road! [hums a jaunty tune] They get buttons sewn on their face–join a puppet show.

Transcript source: The Seinfeld Chronicles (Pilot Episode)

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Somehow I prefer my wormhole/blackhole theory of missing socks than Jerry’s prisonbreak socks theory!