Missing socks are a fact of life in my house, and when I’m not blaming cats or faeries or the tiny 18th century Spaniard that lives in my foyer closet, I suspect many of the socks sneak off in the dead of night to have torrid affairs with one another. This also explains the amount of baby socks I find around the house that I can’t recall either of my children ever wearing. This is sock biology at its finest.
I have yet to find a sock during the gestation period, but it could happen any day now.
This one’s dedicated to my friend Chris. He saw this comic on my dining room table the other day and told me this happens to him and his wife all the time. And she’s not too happy about all the sock babies.
This appeared on Defenestration [link]
on Friday, December 10th.
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