The Mystery of the
Singleton Socks Continues—and it would appear
the oft maligned dryer is perhaps not
the culprit I have thought it to be lo these many years. The disappearance of singleton socks may in
fact have another cause, and there is the
strong possibility the culprit may have a less than snowy white innocence. If so, the responsibility to make a formal apology
may fall to moi.
Last night I saw Mr. Sock Right as I laid him out with the rest
of the outfit I planned to wear today. Unfortunately,
sometime during the night he went
missing. The elusive Mr. Right—it’s the story of my life. As I searched for the current Mr. Right last
night, I became increasingly alarmed. It
appeared he had disappeared off the face of the earth. At least he had disappeared from my home.
I finally found, not Mr. Right, but one of his long lost
relatives—one who had slid down between the recliner and the side table. I know
not how long he’s been hiding out there; however, it has been long enough to
become covered in short white hairs. CSI
confirmation has not been obtained; however, the short white hairs do not match
the hair on my head; they are shorter than the hairs of Bandits crest; and they look suspiciously like they might belong to Moggy. I do not believe in coincidence.
Although the new-found sock did not match Mr. Left, I was running out of time, so I made an executive
decision and pressed the Hairy Relative into service—at least I pressed him into service once the majority of
the evidentiary white hairs were knocked off.
Funny thing though—on my way out the door I passed the Kitty
Rocker (the same one Moggy dismantled
within minutes of being presented to him), where I found the elusive Mr. Right. Isn’t
this always the way it happens? Once you
stop searching , the object of your search miraculously appears—sometimes in
the least expected place.
Alas, I became aware
of a trend. Mr. Right was also found to be covered in short white hairs.
I realize the location Mr. Right was found (the Kitty Rocker), along with the
short white hairs on both Singleton Socks, could
be red herrings; planted by a devious dog wanting to get his feline brother
into trouble. Or the dryer may have somehow secretly transported the missing
sock back to our home. Or, these facts
could simply be coincidences. However, as previously stated, I do not
believe in coincidence. Nevertheless,
in the light of fairness, I must cautiously remember the hundreds of previous singleton
socks who went missing prior to Moggys adoption into our little family, which I
lovingly refer to as Mary Lou’s Zoo.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes has said, “Once you eliminate the
impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” Although I have my doubts as to the innocence
of Moggy, I will endeavor to continue my sleuthing until the day I can
eliminate all of the impossibilities, thereby
arriving at the truth, no matter how improbable it may seem.
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