Saturday, November 17, 2007

Sock Update

Shall I tell you how many socks the Dryer took today? Three. Three. I ask you. (Two of them were blue, but their counterparts are . . . not the same blue as each other.) I feel that perhaps I am being punished for something--but I have no idea the something is.

Sigh.

9 comments:

Annelise said...

Well, you could hang your socks up to dry and let the dryer take care of the other stuff....

Scott said...

that could just be random and could just be how the socks have aged. Sorry the sock reaper took three of your socks. I periodically replace mine and a sock santa at church replenishes me with 8 or 9 pair a year after he saw me with gaping holes one sunday.

jasdye said...

don't worry. they're in a better place now. all of heaven rejoices when each sock returns home.

Nicole Aline said...

Fantastic analysis of reality! You certainly know how to make me smile. Darn those sock thieves... Let's hang out soon!

Marty said...

Aaaah, we're back to socks and dryers. Good conversations.

revjas said...

I have a theory -- or a very strong hunch, possibly a conviction -- that the dryers of the world are being unjustly maligned here ... and that it is really the washing machines that are devouring socks! After all, the hot air that circulates through a dryer exits through a lint filter, and the tumbler revolves in a closed metal drum. (There may be a way for socks to escape the tumbler and rest for eternity in the bottom of the metal drum, but I doubt it.)
On the other hand, in a washing machine, the water is filtered as it ENTERS the machine and then gets expelled by gulping impeller pump. It seems to me that the way American washing machines slosh and spin, it would be quite easy for a sock to slosh or spin over the rim of the basket and into the tub. (Amazingly, I have stopped losing socks in any odd-numeric quantities since moving to Ireland where, as you know, we have a different kind of washing machine. And we do use a dryer too!) What I'm now so sure about is why a sock would not jam an impeller pump. My mercifully infrequent forays into bowels of the recalcitrant beast have not yet taken me as far as the entrails of an impeller pump. Maybe one of your readers who has a more intimate knowledge of washing machine pumps can enlighten us here. In any case, I have the sneaking suspicion that you just might be able to retrieve some of your wayward socks by excavating and exploring the contents of the septic collecting tank buried in the front yard. Or for prevention, why not wash (and dry, just in case) all you socks in a lingerie bag?

Jenn said...

Wow. People obviously really resonate with socks. Papa-Revjas, I suppose you may be right about all that; on the other hand, I don't believe I ever had this problem in London when I hung socks up all over the house.

Nicole Aline--you DID mean to use "darn" and "socks" in the same sentence, right?

Jenn said...

Oops. Didn't actually finish reading all of your thorough comment, Dad! The bag is clearly a good idea I should have thought of ages ago. As for the septic tank--I should have asked those dudes to check it out last winter when they were down there. But . . . I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have wanted the socks back!

mike said...

I've heard the government actually created clothes dryers by reverse-engineering wormhole creators left here by an advanced species years and years ago (I think it was like 1923). That would explain where your socks are...they're on some alien planet. That would also explain why people who put a pet in the dryer to dry them after a bath can never find them the next day! They think the pet ran away, but the government knows the truth...

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