The Missing Sock

Today was a bit of a rarity. At least for me. After spending three hours at Starbucks this morning, both working, catching up with friends and shattering my iphone (the latter being a whole other chapter to itself), I returned home to do what I never do. (And I can say 'never' as I truly never do it, and until date have never done it.) I cleaned my oven. With oven cleaner. And a full roll of paper towels! I felt like a million bucks afterwards, as in addition to a clean oven, I have fresh laundry, a clean bathroom and mopped floors. All things I would NEVER opt for on a Saturday. But I am proud of myself, as these are the small joys in life that often elude me, as living solo how often do you need to clean deep enough that guests would notice a freshly clean bathroom... or a shiny oven, for that matter? (Although during dinner tonight, I learned there is a fancy 'self cleaning' oven feature I had no clue about!... This post could take on a whole meaning had the time between 'spray 6-10 inches from surface' and 'let soak' and 'wipe clean after 20-30 mintues)

During these oven cleaning breaks, I steadied myself in my laundry 'room' trying to piece together pieces that had ended up in the 'miscellaneous sock bucket'.. and there were a lot. Fifty plus socks or so to be exact. All without a mate. All in search of one. ALL knowing that at one point they came paired, and for some reason -- laundry error, user error or a true case of finders keepers -- they are not anymore.

As I dealt with missing foot coverings for a solid 30 minutes, I remembered all the missing sock stories from my life. My college roommate discovering that it wasn't ONLY her mother's laundry skills that resulted in missing mates (apparently this was hereditary). An ex who would scour and contemplate for days until he unearthed items pertaining to the feet. Hundreds of DIY laundry spots whose namesake was dedicated to missing items pertaining to the feet. Or the Chinese laundry joints I would use when living in the NE that often returned others 'missing feet' in my laundry pile, and I don't even want to think which parts of my own laundry ended up in another's pile. And yet today, I was dealing with a full basket of missing feet. A whole basket of one minus the half. One sock short of a pair. One foot covering short of being able to go out for a run, a sexy outfit, or cozy feet on a frigid morning.

As per my norm, the mindless act of sock mating turned to relationships, and I as I matched and mated, I wondered how many people I know have been tossed in the missing sock pile, and was it possible that I was one of them? How many people are one sock short of having their best day/date ever? Their most enchanting meeting yet? How many people are simply waiting on their other/better half to get on with it all? To get out of the bin and into the game? Is that all it really takes, is the other half to get those with a missing half out of the bin and into the life of the living?

(Needless to say, laundry is rarely ever just 'laundry' with me. Nor anything else for that matter!)

When I finished pairing what could be paired, I still have 6-9 pieces left over. They all stayed in the basket just above the washing machine. I placed them there after much speculation... As after studying so many black trouser socks, with various patterns and nuances, it dawned on me at the end of my 'foot' journey, that some I had previously mated might have been better suited for some that were now in the official 'lost and found'... and I had to wonder if that is the way it is with life and our mating patterns.

Is there a perfect match for everyone? Do we come onto Earth knowing who we are to be with and we figure out to find them in our journey? Do we figure out who is best for us along the way? Or is it all happenstance? Are we all just players in a game of 'the missing sock' where sometimes we are mated and sometimes we are left on our own? Is there a science to it all? Or is life and mating the ultimate game of laundry where some are better at it than others, and the others just remain 'missing socks' until their mate magically appears?

Laundry, like life, seldom makes total sense. Whether simple or complex "the missing sock" is a mystery we all seek to solve, from college days to life after 101's. Who knows when the mystery truly ends... maybe its a first date, an anniversary date, or a wedding date... Or maybe for some of us its a feeling we seek, the feeling of completeness regardless of title...because ANYTHING is better than 'that missing sock!'