IMG_0456 (2)How many times has this happened to you?

You put 10 socks in the washer and when you empty the dryer, only 9 are there.
You scrape the washer, impeccably search the dryer and diligently follow your path from the laundry room to the bedroom and no missing sock.

My wife has this basket of unmatched socks in our bedroom, hoping for that day when she finds a mate in another load. The day never comes. It’s a mystery we all encounter.

Have you ever thought of this? Perhaps, socks are monogamous or monogosox if you prefer.

When I buy my socks, it’s usually in a 3 pack or 6 pack or whatever and the socks are all neatly matched, usually bound together with a small seemingly annoying plastic piece, that to socks are perhaps a wedding rings of sorts.

And what do we do? We rip apart their band, step on them all day long and then throw them in a hamper when we are done. Leave them there for a few days or so with shirts and trousers and more socks and throw them in a vat of soapy water.

They soon learn that the odds of 12 socks ever being perfectly matched together again are 0.00757575. (Just trust me, my sister Susan is a math geek and got that stat for Wedwand in under a minute.)

As they splash about getting agitated, rinsed and spun you can almost hear them scream, “Bobby, where are you?”

“I’m here, Crew. I promise I’ll never be matched with another.”

It’s kinda like the Titanic for those socks when they get dropped in the washer. As the water pours into the tub and the fabric softener is added, you can almost hear Celine Dion singing, “Near far, wherever you are…”

Alas, one sock ultimately goes missing in search of their mate. Mystery solved.

Speaking of socks, the Christmas tradition of hanging stockings also involves only ONE stocking and a myriad of myths surround the origin.

I have modified the multiple tales into a real true fiction yarn.

A certain man, St. Nicholas if you will, heard of the plight of a local man who had fallen on hard times back in the 18th century. It seems this man had three daughters and being a man of little means was in a difficult row trying to marry them off in those days without a dowry.

Being a proud man, he accepted no charity so on one Christmas Eve St. Nick, having heard of his plight, snuck outside the man’s house and happened upon the three eligible ladies stockings conveniently hung by the chimney to dry. He dropped a gold ball in each of the 3 stockings and the father and daughters lived happily thereafter.

To replicate this tradition, if one is not in possession of gold, oranges cast the illusion of that precious metal after a few egg nogs. So one may substitute oranges for gold to perpetuate the tradition, unless you’re the kind of person that has a pocketful of gold Krugerrands. Then by all means stop by my house and I’ll lead you to the stockings.

Clement Clark Moore immortalized the tradition in 1823 when he penned “The Night before Christmas” and including this line in his yarn:

“The stockings were all hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.”

So stuff your stockings with whatever you have to spare in your pocket, be it real gold, an orange or a stocking-sized trinket.

But don’t forget the true meaning of Christmas. Love this song and Bing Crosby’s ‘Pray for peace people everywhere” plea which still holds true today.

The rest is simply yuletide lore. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

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