The Sock That Escaped Society

The Sock That Escaped Society

By: Me. A Sock Widow.

      [ The Jobless Blogger ]

I was vacuuming, which is something I do about as often as there’s a full moon on a leap year, when I noticed something wedged between the dresser and the wall. At first I thought it was a dust bunny with dreams of being a tumbleweed. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a sock.

Not just any sock. A veteran sock. Dust-covered. Lightly mummified. Emotionally distant.

I recognized it. It was from a pair I thought I lost in 2019. The sock's twin had been sitting alone in my drawer for years, serving as a reminder that no matter how hard I try, laundry will always win. I kept it out of loyalty and a faint hope for reunion. I imagined they might meet again in a movie-worthy climax where the missing sock dramatically bursts through a tear in the fabric of space-time and shouts “I’M HOME!”

Instead, I found it wedged behind furniture, holding hands with a rogue Lego and what appeared to be a dehydrated Cheerio.

I picked it up with two fingers. It made a small crackling sound. That’s never a good sign for fabric.

I did consider washing it and reuniting it with its twin, but… I also considered the fact that it had seen things. Been places. Probably voted in two elections and started a Pinterest board while it was down there. Honestly, it looked like it had moved on.

Also: I no longer trust it.

So I did the only thing I could: I gave it a respectful sendoff. I whispered a thank you for its years of service and gently placed it in the “textile recycling” bag, which I am definitely going to drop off one day, I swear.

Laundry remains undefeated.