Through a Glass, Darkly

In my sock drawer there is a blue sock with lighter colored blue stripes on it. I got it at Old Navy a few years ago, and it was part of one of my favorite pairs of socks. When Mike and I lived in our first apartment, its partner went missing somehow. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment that was 600 square feet, so I assumed it just got tucked in a different Rubbermaid than the one in which I kept my socks. Stuff gets tucked in all kinds of wrong places when you are living in a space that small. When Mike and I moved, I kept the lone sock, hoping I would one day find its partner.

We have since moved again, with still no sign of the missing sock. This means that the one sock I can find has survived two moves without a partner. What is wrong with me?

I’ll tell you a secret - deep inside, I believe that my sock’s mate is actually in that drawer (we have real furniture now instead of just Rubbermaids) and that I keep seeing different socks and just thinking it’s the same one. This is, of course, nonsense, because I have cleaned out the drawer a few times since our first apartment - throwing out socks with holes and, more tragically, a fuzzy black sock with snowflakes on it that also lost its mate. Man, I loved those socks. For some reason, I have been able to let other socks go while this one stays.

Anyway, if you are out shopping this season and you see a pair of blue stripey socks, consider making a donation to me so I can finally get rid of this relic in my drawer. I don’t think I’m going to be able to get rid of it until I have a replacement.

Even better, if you are the one who stole my sock . . . could you please just return it? That would make me a very happy girl. My mind has been messed with quite enough.