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Where are my gray socks?
Where are my gray socks?
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they might have become white in the wash. or there might not have been any sock at all. it might have been a glitch in the matrix.
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The real question is where are society's grey socks? Answer that and your grey socks will come to you.
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Same place my red ones went.
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I ate them. They made a delicious meal with instant cheese.
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It's possible they might be stuck inside of one of your other clothing items, such as a shirt. I've had that happen to me before. Also, if you used bleach to wash your gray socks, you should consider them to be your white socks from now on.
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Do you have a dog or cat? In my experience they have a knack for taking them. Or, the washing mashine/dryer could have eaten them.
If worse comes to worse take a pair of white socks and color them with magic marker.
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There are no gray socks. It's all part of your imagination. Actually, you have no imagination either, because you are not there. None of us are.
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Since I wear white socks, this is a problem I do not face often. However, I am well-educated in the mysterious phenomenon pertaining to gray socks. There is always the classic explanation: they are eaten by washers. Or the X explanation: the government takes them. Or the Darwin explanation: Some gray socks, being more fit than others, overcome weaker socks. But let me tell a brief story. Once, I put my white socks in the drawer for safekeeping. I was sure that they were paired up upon entering the drawer, but at the end of the week, I reached into the drawer and found one lonely sock. Its mate had vanished into thin air. I was depressed by this, but then I started thinking differently. My sock was no longer to suffer on my stinky feet, or be tossed around in a washer, or stuffed into a shoe. My sock had gone on to a better place. It was, quite possibly, relaxing and drinking with other socks in some sort of sock milksha in the sky. Maybe Americans need to stop thinking of ourselves and start thinking about our socks. They are tired. They are worn. And though we think we can provide the love that a sock needs, this is not always possible. Sometimes, socks must go their separate ways. I have accepted this. And now when I notice that I am missing a sock, I feel almost happy inside. Because beyond this world, I know there is a better place for my sock.
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