Amidst many of life's mysteries that man has tried to solve over the years, a significant one is that of the MMS, or 'missing matching socks.
I think it's the price you pay for being clean. Think about it. You buy a new pair, it's wrapped in plastic, stuck together neatly with a clip. It waits smilingly in the cupboard for your first date, ready and easily available in the cupboard, lying innocently in the drawer with a big sign on it saying "pick me, pick me". It comes with the promise of a new beginning, a new start to sock fate, a final breaking of the curse of the missing matching socks, a readiness to being a new you... a new era where you will find the socks you want to wear in the blink of an eye, where you will not spend more time digging through the drawer than you do on making big business decisions at work, where every sock will have its partner together, where you will never wear a sock with a hole, ever again... to boldly go where no man has gone before...
And then it happens... it goes into the wash after its first use, and that's the end of innocence, the breaking of the ambition, the return of the disappointment, the shattering of the dream... after that fateful first wash, the new pair of sock returns as a single, never to be paired ever again with its partner... resigning you back to your fate of the extra half hour of trying to resolve the riddle of the missing matching pair in the morning, back to choosing between a hole-in-one or a hole-in-two, back to the incomplete life you knew before, the dissatisfaction that your feet have to suffer every morning...
And as you walk out of the door every morning, your shoes covering your sock fraud, you think to yourself, "this really socks!"
Good one....
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