Everyone knows single socks disappear, leaving their mate abandoned. Even well-beloved, handknit socks are not immune. Usually the missing sock was last seen in the laundry. Such was the tale of one poor sock, which went missing some years back while I was up in the mountains. After checking under beds and such, I took the mate home philosophically. “Eaten by the dryer,” I presumed. The next time I was up, I checked the lost and found box, conveniently located on a shelf in the laundry, in case it had migrated into someone else’s laundry. No luck.
This month when I packed to come up here, gleefully adding woool socks to my bag because fall comes first to the mountains - it will be in the low 40s overnight, and yes, I am wearing wool socks - I noticed the abandoned mate in my drawer and wondered why I was hanging on to it. Well, because KD made the pair for me, and she doesn’t make many socks, so they were special.
Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find the prodigal sock laid out on the bed I would be sleeping in. “My sock! Where HAVE you been?” I inquired. No answer was forthcoming, so I was left to asssume that it was folded into a sheet or blanket which somehow escaped use for a year or two.
Thank you, fellow cabinhabitant*, for leaving it where I would find it. Now I can reunite them and wear them for many more years to come!
*Great word, Kansas-sister; I approve.