the land of socks

There is a land where lost socks go. No matter how much exploration is dedicated to discovering it, this place will never be found by humans. I imagine it is a very colourful world where no two socks are the same. Because this is not a land for pairs but rather odd socks that have escaped a life that would otherwise be spent on someone’s smelly foot. They have abandoned their other half to lie useless in a sock draw. Sometimes, if two socks of a similar colour and style have been deserted by a partner, a loving human such as myself will try and pair them together. Perhaps not a match made in heaven but it surely beats facing the unthinkable when the next spring clean comes around. Some may even find their way to the Jolly Gardeners on a Sunday where they can be made into sock monkeys and then sit gathering dust on bookshelves until the novelty wears off and they end up in the rubbish anyway. There just isn’t much hope for those who are left behind.
But those who live in the Land of Socks have no cares for such afflictions. They go undisturbed and possibly see their days out until they disintegrate to their initial state of lint.
The reason I have been thinking of this place is that I was faced with somewhat of a “prodigal sock” moment last night as I lay in bed, reading my book. Try as I might, I was unable to even out a lump in the sheet and after deciding that it was not going to go away, I delved deeper to investigate. Imagine my surprise when out came a white gym sock (clean) from between the mattress protector and the sheet. I had been looking everywhere for that little rascal! Perhaps the Land of Socks hadn’t been all that it had imagined or maybe it decided at the last minute that it didn’t want to go and clung for dear life to the sheet during the spin cycle.
I gladly reunited my gym socks and thought of those in Fox’s drawer that lie discarded in the hope that their partner might materialise one day too. I think it is probably too nice in the Land of Socks.