Sunday, January 01, 2006

And So It Begins…

2005 has given up the ghost, 2006 has limped up to the starting line, and I find I’m starting the new year locked into an epic battle with a sock.

Sometime in November, while folding and putting away my laundry, I found a lone sock in the pile. This is not an unusual experience for my athletic or older socks, but this was part of a new set of work socks, one of only three pairs. I knew I hadn’t lost its mate and that it would eventually show up in the wash, so I added to lone sock to the singles pile and waited for the other one to catch up. A month later and the lone sock still sat atop the pile, collecting dust.

Instead of just waiting for the situation to rectify itself, I went on a sock hunt. I thought it might have fallen behind a piece of furniture or been tossed under my bed, but I discovered it in the bottom of the laundry bin. I don’t know how it escaped detection for so long, but I pulled it out and stuck it on top of the washing machine so it would fall into the next rotation. The battle of the sock was over. Final score: Grant – 1, Sock – 0.

Or so I thought.

I assumed the sock battle had been won in December, but yesterday while folding and storing the latest clean clothes I stumbled across the renegade sock in the laundered clothes basket. Oh, well. Better late than never, I thought. I took the errant sock to its lonely mate only to discover it had escaped. A quick search of the apartment including the laundry hamper and washing machine and dryer revealed nothing. I assumed I must have somehow washed the lonely sock, which was just as well as it was probably growing cobwebs or housing spiders, and I added it back to the lost pile.

Sometime later I picked up my gym bag and discovered that the escaped sock had slithered under the bag and had hidden from me in plain view. As soon as I saw it, I said

Warning to kiddies – serious profanity follows. Cover your ears.

“Jesus goddamned Christ mother fucker sons of bitches!”

Okay, that’s past. You can uncover your ears now.

Apparently I had reunited the socks during the last rotation only to have worn them once and have them go rogue on me again. I’m naming the pair Steve and McQueen. Steve has been washed and dried and is back in the socky stockade. McQueen (featured below) is awaiting the gas chamber washing machine, assuming he doesn’t manage to escape again.

McQueen, the culprit: evil outcast unclean

I’m not planning to wash the dark colors again until Tuesday night, at which time S and M will be reunited and locked away in the closet. Note: S&M – I didn’t plan that. This whole situation is becoming more ominous by the minute. It really puts those wussy Stephen King stories into perspective. This isn’t Cujo, Christine, or that fecking clown from It. This is:


I just checked on McQueen and found he had slid over from the washer to the dryer, partially hidden beneath the bag of dust rags. Very clever. I’m going to have to sleep with one eye open, all the while knowing he could burrow under the door, climb upon the bed, stuff himself into my mouth and suffocate me at night. Oh sure, laugh, but don’t forget that when he’s done with me he’ll be free to come after you. He might be in your house already. He could be slithering under your bedroom door, creeping up behind your chair, biding his time until OMFG LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!

Okay, false alarm that time, but just you wait. The sock is out there, and it won’t rest until it has destroyed us all. It’s spent its life so far wrapped around my feet. What kind of mood do you think it’ll be in?

This year is already off to a bad start. Maybe I should just write it off and wait for 2007. Save some room for me in bottom of the whiskey bottle, Annush.


Butterscotch said...


Weary Hag said...

Happy New Year to you, my dark and scary friend.
All I have to say is thank Lucifer you showed us the errant sock because at least now we know what to watch out for. Phew.

Your story made my skin crawl. I am aware of the dreaded roaming footwear and let me tell you, it's not only the solid work sock that schemes behind our backs. No no no ... even if a sock has a little devil face on it or a sparkly road runner, it can still go astray!

One thing I HAVE found though... if the sock is ready for death (i.e. has a big hole in the heel or toe and is nearly thread-bare) it will remain faithful and visible. Only the new and usable ones seem to stray. The useless ones just give up and stay where they belong.

Stephen King's got nuthin' on you, Grant. I'm still quaking over here.

circe said...

Grant, that was the most entertaining story about socks I have ever read.

You know, they might mate with my wayward socks and have scary offspring.....

PBS said...

That was a very scary story. Now I'm going to have nightmares about it. Thanks a lot!

AVA said...

Hahha, this is the best story I've read this year ;)
I hope things start looking up for you!

Mel said...

Thanks for the read, matey, it was a great way to start the work year off - now, every monday I am requiring one of these - :) kidding. Roll on 2007!

Liz said...

Let me ask you Grant, have you done anything to upset the balance of the sock Karma? For instance worn them outside without shoes, called them stinky, or thought of replacing the offending sock? The problem also may be the pair does not get along and are on a trial separation.

What always freaks me out is when a random single finds its way into my rotation and it is not mine. I know I’ve never bought it or received it as a gift. I just assume it ran away from bad owners.

sands of time said...

Happy New Year and i'll beware of the sock.I think they are breeding in my basement by the washer.

Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

Damn. Like I don't have enough shit to worry about already, now I gotta worry about evil socks too.

Joe said...

I don't know why the government bothers with torture when they can just mess with people's socks like this. It seems so much more effective.

"I'll tell you everything, just make the socks stop!"

P.S. I'm going to take your advice on the Shakira thing. Thanks!

Anonymous said...

Even worse than stuffing itself in your mouth, the beast may choose to use its horrifically legendary static electrical discharge against you. Then they'll only find a pile of ashes and assume you spontaneously combusted!

Just Some Gal said...

The socks always get the best of me. Not only have I my own socks to worry for... they have bred and I have baby socks everywhere too!!

Spider Girl said...

* Spider Girl shivers and peers cautiously into her laundry room; the thought of Grant's socks lingers unnervingly in her mind...*

annush said...

if i were you i'd just kill the sock. SERIOUSLY.

(or you can save it as a peace offering to the atomic chickens)