The Mystery of The Singleton Sock


Sometimes, before bed, Nathan and I like to solve a mystery, or at least…try to solve one.

A couple of weeks after we moved into our house, I was doing laundry.  The load was mostly Nathan’s work clothing, so imagine my surprise when a dainty women’s sock appeared, statically clinging to the arm of his button up shirt.  It wasn’t my sock.  I don’t own any socks that dainty.  I thought about it for a long time.  Where had it come from?  I had done almost twenty loads of laundry before that load, so it couldn’t have been left over from a previous tenant.  How had Nathan picked up a women’s sock?  Had he put it in his pocket?  That would be weird, but I wouldn’t put it past him.  It was the perfect opportunity to have a little fun with him.

That evening, when his car pulled into our driveway, I grabbed the sock and stood in front of the door.  He walked in to find me pinching a strange woman’s sock in an outstretched hand.  I gave him just long enough to recognize it as a sock, then I demanded, “Who is she?”  The look on his face was priceless.  Big eyes, innocent shock, then panic.  Panic because he had no idea whether I was crazy enough to be serious.  I couldn’t hold a straight face for long.

We both had a good laugh.  That night, before bed, we got down to the business of solving the mystery of the singleton sock.  We figured it out, but I can’t tell you.  I would ruin the exhilaration of discovery for everyone else.  There is a place that singletons go.  When you lose socks, and can’t figure out how the members of your family could possibly have twelve singles..well, they go somewhere.  And we figured out where.  The amazing thing…is that sometimes they come back.  They wait for like..four to a hundred months.  Then, when you least expect it, they show up.

Last night, we attacked another question before bed.  I had heard that if you listen to a cricket for fifteen seconds and count its chirps, then add that number to 37, you get the approximate temperature.  Nathan thought that adding the number 37 didn’t’ sound approximate at all, but I assured him that my internet source was sound.  (some guy writing ‘fun facts’ about crickets)

To test the validity of this claim, Nathan made me count to fifteen very slowly while he chirped as fast as he could.  It was fast.  But in fifteen seconds, he could only chirp forty three times.  I’ll do the math.  That means, any temperature over 80 degrees is impossible for a cricket to predict.  I’m not an entomologist, so I don’t know if crickets even hang around outside if it’s that warm.  That could be part of the problem.

Anyway, the cricket mystery, we couldn’t’ crack.  There were no cricket chirps to count.  So, if one of you has time, and has crickets, please get back to me.

Also, if you need help solving a mystery, let us know.  We’re pretty good at it.  Ever meet anyone else who knew where socks go?

I didn’t think so.



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