Swinging Single Socks are a Sadistic Scourge
I just don’t get why we have so many socks without a mate. There must be 50 left after The Great Sunday Sock Pairing of 2014, which is crazy. As you can see, I’ve separated the Swinging Singles (or as I like to say, “Singing Swingles”) into three categories: white, various and black. Not that this helps the situation any, but I like to pretend I’ve exercised sovereignty over the material world.
Where is it that socks go? Do the Underpants Gnomes have cousins?