Posted on | September 22, 2015 | Comments Off
Just when your eyes were beginning to cross reading ed policy verbiage, I offer the mystery of the Red Sock.
The red sock disappeared. Leanne had given me a very comfy pair of bright red socks that I wore when I was feeling reckless, wanting to make a fashion statement, or to put out flares that I wasn’t to be messed with.
Thus, the socks were worn with some frequency, and they looked great with jeans and loafers.
But socks get dirty, and these were wool, so were dried outside. When last seen they were draped over a chair in the back yard.
When Leanne went to collect the dry socks, she only found one. The wind must have moved it, we thought, but inspection of the patio, the flowerbeds, the fishpond proved futile. Something took the sock, and we speculated whether it was an old crow, a young possum, or maybe Mischief the across-the-street cat.
The caper of the disappearing sock, we thought.
But Saturday morning the sock reappeared, artfully draped over the back steps, gnawed and mangled, but returned, leading to the greater mystery: the caper of the reappearing sock. What kind of animal returns a sock?
Speculation is running toward a socialist possum, which took what he needed and returned the rest, or maybe a playful raccoon, which tired of soccer (socker?) and discarded the toy where it was found.