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.