Oh sock, where art thou?

You hear the beep and head to the dryer. You empty the load, the lint filter, then transport the overflowing basket to a large surface and begin phase two; folding. As you fold the laundry you find yourself smiling because who doesn’t love a shirt that smells of a crisp autumn breeze or a calm lavender pedal?! For a moment your happy; not only did you complete a chore, you saved yourself from having to tap into that ‘exclusive’ section of your top drawer. You know, the part of the drawer where you keep old, tattered undies ‒The “just in case” section where badly worn pairs seem to linger. We can afford to buy five dollar lattés but God forbid we part ways with a pair of undergarments we got in one of those ten for twenty($) bargain bins. Let’s face it ladies, when a part of the underwear you wear has frayed, that doesn’t leave much left to ‘support’ the unmentionables and truthfully, there wasn’t much there to begin with. Anyway, sock pairing is always left for last because you know it’s coming‒you hope desperately that it’s not going to happen, but it always does. The pile starts to dwindle and then you’re left with three. You ball the last matching two, turn your attention back to the empty space, silently stare at the last loner, sigh and gently whisper “another widowed sock”.

You know that book called “The book of Awesome”? The dryer’s consumption of a single sock is one of those things that TOTALLY ISN’T awesome.

You return to the dryer, not just frustrated but outraged. “How dare it do this to me again”! You reach your hand into the deep dark hole, but obviously this investigation requires both hands and your head. Upon receiving visual confirmation that the dryer is empty, you dash back to your helpless sock and phase two of the disappearing sock mystery begins, which often includes feet stomping and foul language. This is because its not the cheap Walmart ankle sock you bought in a pack of 50 for $2.99 that goes missing. No no, the dryer likes the “good stuff”. It has taste, class and a stomach that only consumes pricey items. The sock your missing is the double layered, cool mesh, moisture wicking, water resistant, maximum airflow, touched by the finger of Zeus sock. This was the pair you got ON SALE for $14.99 AND you believed the price was validated by the fact that they really would reduce foot friction and the chance of blisters. As you sit on the sofa and pop the blisters on your foot, you think to yourself, “maybe this is one of those life lessons telling me how silly it is to spend fifteen bucks (minimum) on a pair of socks”. But let’s be honest, this won’t be the last time. Two months down the road you’ll be greeted by Huck‒that tall drink of water sales clerk at the runner expo who runs 3:10 marathons and easily convinces you that $12.99 is not only worth the investment, but a STEAL in price. As such, you go ahead and purchase a few pairs of socks; after all, a hungry laundry machine is the last thing on your mind. The sixty dollar splurge leaves you with three pairs of socks and conviction that superpowers are weaved in the fibers. Little did you know that after one wear and one wash, there would be no “happily ever after” for the newly married pair. Dryers-the leading force of divorce in our drawers!

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