Unsolved Mysteries: The Case of the MIssing Socks

It all began one hot, summer day in July, in the year 2010. A year that marked the end of the first
decade, of the first century (not to mention the first millennium) that I have witnessed from the very beginning. This decade of new beginnings, from graduating college in 2000, moving to Baltimore in 2006, to getting married in 2008 and wrapping up the decade with the production of two very similar-looking offspring that arrived the same day in 2010. It was a decade of becoming wiser, along with adding letters to my (already long) email signature; from Thron to Thron BA to Thron MBA to Thron Treiber MBA to (soon hopefully) Thron Treiber MBA CFP.

I grew up in a household surrounded by smart people. I always used to boast about my parents both (while in different fields) being doctors. I pride myself in learning and becoming a resource in that knowledge (whether I really know what I'm talking about or not). I also like to think that I am mostly right, most of the time, as do most of us right? (OK, so as I get older I realize that I am not right all time). I feel that I have been trained in school and in life to use logic and deductive reasoning. I feel that when life presents a problem, its merely a challenge that can be solved.

So, that super long preface leads me to my story...

So again, it all began one hot summer day, in July 2010. Two girls were born. Eventually, it got cold enough that they had to start wearing socks. It wasn't so bad at the beginning. I didn't even notice there was an issue. As these two girls grew they started wearing more socks- bigger socks. And they also started doing things for themselves, like taking off their socks. Sometimes the socks would fly off while we were out and about; if I noticed, that was good- I knew it was gone, somewhere in the public world- on some street somewhere or in some aisle at the grocery store. More often however is when the socks would come off inside, in our private world. I would find a sock stuck in the couch cushions, in the diaper pail, under the bed, in my purse, or nestled strategically in the pantry behind the diced tomatoes.

Why the need to take off the socks? Did it prevent airflow? Did they just not like the feel of them? Maybe they slipped too much? Was it just fun? There's no real answers to these questions, mere speculation- but I am going with fun.. and maybe there was a little slipping.

I was warned by my sister. with two lovely offspring of her own, that I should stick with white socks...and only white socks. I smiled and said, "good point" and went on adding to my collection of frogs, stripes, princesses, polka dots, rainbows, hearts, and snowflakes. And while white socks go with everything, they are no fun. They express nothing. Now of course, my children are not expressing too  much through their dress quite yet- but I take great pride in wearing my own socks that include frogs,stripes, polka dots, rainbows, hearts, and snowflakes (I haven't had any princess socks as of recent unfortunately). But fortunately for me, I generally take off my socks in one place and at one time throughout the day- and they usually end up in the same load of laundry and hence back in drawer readying themselves for another expressive day on my feet.

So for the last 2.5 years, since the big she-bang, I have always noticed the random disappearance of the sock. THE sock is they key word, because its mate would remain. However, a few days ago (after having done almost all the dirty kids clothes that presented themselves). I realize I had 5 matching pairs of socks; and 25 random socks, with no cotton partner. TWENTY-FIVE. Just to put this into perspective, 3 of the 5 matching pairs were white, so who knows if that was really the sock they were "supposed to be with".

Where do these socks go? Have they just had enough and allow themselves to be stuffed under floor boards and cabinets? Flushed down toilets, tossed in trashcans, and placed in under-the-sink plastic bins mingling with the band-aids and cotton balls? Maybe they travel to their car-seat seams, out windows, and in consoles and glove compartments? I do know they happen to enjoy purses, strollers, coolers, and mail slots.

I have searched in the most logical places that I can conjure, like under couches and beds, in toy bins and laundry bins- with minimal success. Chances are greater that I will find yet another sock sans mate to add to my list. My last thought was that the washer and/ or dryer were sucking them into their cylindrical worlds. But unless we dismantle them, who knows? (Our dryer actually is taking an awful long time drying these days, wouldn't it be great to learn that it was because of a sock? Or 25?

So while this mystery is still unsolved, I will keep investigating. And I hope that being armed with the wisdom learned through my years and the smarts of those around me that at some point before the end of the second decade of the first century and the first millennium (that I experienced from the beginning), I hope I may solve this mystery of the socks... or at least find some of these darned socks.