The Mystery of the Missing Socks? The Clue on the Dryer? The Case of the Foiled Footwear?
I'm playing around with what my Nancy Drew book titles for this one would be.
Seems like the Pastor has a dirty little secret. Technically I guess it would be a clean little secret, but I've got him all figured out, and I didn't need my bobby pins or flashlight to solve this one.
The Pastor went out of town this week and while he was gone, I went a sleuthin' and found this, dun dun dun:
He could have done a better job of hiding it from me. I suppose he thought if he left the bag in a safe place, a place he thought I'd never look with him out of town (on top of the dryer), it would be safe.
You see, the Pastor thinks he has finally figured out some way, some sort of system while doing laundry, to isolate the mismatched socks. He thinks if he separated out this batch of lonely socks from the last bout of laundry-doing, he'd be able to make it make sense. That his little system of putting them in a bag will somehow make us be able to find the sock-mates.
When I found the bag of lonely socks? I couldn't have laughed harder. It was almost as though he had given me a Valentine. Almost.
I don't have a Ph.D. Or a few Master's Degrees. But this I know for sure, you will never figure it out.
It is un-understandable.
The socks will never make sense.
We will always and forever have a pile of mismatched socks.
This is just how the Universe works. Socks just disappear.
And on top of the Universe's natural order of things for socks, we have kids that go back-and-forth between different houses. They do not come to our house with matched socks on. Just like everything else in our house, even our socks are divorced and remarried to other socks. Then when the kids leave again, they leave with one of those pairs of preciously matched socks, and they disappear into another kind of black hole entirely.
It'll be fun though. To watch the Pastor after the next go-round of laundry, dumping out all the socks and enlisting the help of the kids to match them - you know, those kids who are not wearing matched socks in the first place. You will be able to see his blood pressure rise with each stray sock.
Maybe I'd care more about this if I even wore socks, but I don't and I never will. I won't wear anything that means I'll just have that much more laundry to do. I've got plenty of other cases to solve without spending any more time on socks again, ever.
And that, my little sleuths, is no mystery.