I have a problem with socks. I have a problem with women and socks. I remember once I was doing the laundry and I found a lost sock. It was a little women’s footie, I thought maybe my girlfriend left it behind, it was the kind of socks she wore when working out.
So the next time she came over, I gave her the sock. She looked at it and was immediately enraged. She said, “This isn’t my sock. It must be your other girlfriend’s sock,” and she stormed out the front door. I was stunned, I had plenty enough problems with this one girlfriend, I sure didn’t have (or need) another one. But she was convinced another woman left it at my house, and she wouldn’t speak to me for a whole month. The sock’s original owner is unknown. I can only guess that it was left behind in a dryer in the laundromat, then I threw my laundry in that dryer.
That was years ago, but I’ve had some recent sock problems too. A woman friend came over last winter on a cold, wet day. She asked if I had any dry socks. I gave her one of my best pairs of socks. I had two identical pairs of my warmest socks, big thick black woolen winter socks, I wore one pair and she wore the other. She wore them home and I never got them back.
Now the other pair of black woolly socks is gone too, thieved by another woman. Another friend came over and threw her jacket down on the floor by my shoes and socks. For reasons I will never figure out, she took my socks when she picked up her jacket and left. I asked her about it, she said, “oops, I just swept up my jacket and stuff and I guess I grabbed your socks too.” I demanded the return of my favorite socks. She said it was too late, she was doing laundry for someone else and gave my socks to them. No getting them back. Now I have no good winter socks at all. And someone else is now wondering where the hell this pair of rogue socks came from.
Update: Sox 3, Charles 1. I found a third pair of my favorite black socks. So now I have the one pair left.