The Perfect Pair

Many years ago, my laundry experienced a loss of two socks. I don't know if they were lost at the same time or just sort of close in time, but they were not in the same pair. I eventually noticed that the two remaining socks, both of which had been abandoned by the missing socks, looked lonely. I knew that the lost socks would not return, but the remaining socks were still good socks. And I have inherited from my dad the following philosophy in life: never throw away what you can and might use again (though I don't quite follow the philosophy as strictly as he does). So these socks, one red and one blue, stayed in the drawer. One cold winter's night, or a slightly cool fall night (it doesn't matter), I was searching through my sock drawer for a pair of socks to wear to bed. I always sleep with socks on, and I like to wear socks to sleep in that I don't wear much otherwise, so as not to jeapordize the laundry flow too badly. So on this particular night, I pulled out the one red sock and the one blue sock, and I put them on and went to bed. They were great. From thence forward, I have always kept these socks together, and neither has run away from the other yet. I wear them all the time, and it has become quite natural to me that they are a pair, a match made in heaven. They were meant to be together as far as I'm concerned. One day a year or so ago, a friend of mine was helping me with my laundry, and she couldn't find the matching sock for the red one of this pair. I said, "Oh, that goes with the blue one here," just as though she should have known the connection. It did not occur to me until just then that these socks were in fact a strange pair. You can see for yourself that, though they may be strange, they are happy together. And my feet are happy. Trust me.