Some socks are loners. They can’t live in pairs. ~ Wendy Cope
It’s Thursday. That means it’s time for a new conspiracy. The day job is keeping me pretty busy. I have been unsuccessful in my last few attempts to listen to my Conspiracy Theories podcast. Their voices are so soothing. It lulls me to sleep.
Today I have on miss matched socks. I couldn’t find their mates this morning when I was dressing for the day job. I know I washed them as a matching pair. In some cases, even put them in the drawer with their mate. Yet somehow, the mates have disappeared. Did they run away with the dish and spoon? Are they on walk about trying to find the meaning of life? Were they teleported into a parallel universe? Maybe Area 51 is really filled with lost socks? I’m not saying it’s aliens, but it really could be aliens with a sock fetish. Or aliens with a sock shortage on their home world? Maybe there’s another planet with one legged aliens. The possibilities are endless.
At our house, Burt plays a factor in the lost sock conspiracy. He likes to carry them around the house.
Sometimes he sleeps with them.
Sometimes he simply deposits them in his favorite hangouts.
Sometimes he tries to feed them.
Sometimes he shows them the wild back yard.
Everyday we come home to socks in a new location. Maybe it’s his master plan to rule the world by holding all socks hostage?