I washed a sock. Then I put it in the dryer. When I took it out, it was gone. Rod Schmidt.

Now I don't know who Rod Schmidt is (anyone shed any light on this?) but this quote sums up my own dryer experiences over the years, and continues to this day.

Let me backtrack a bit. The boyfriend and I moved into a new apartment a month ago. It's fantastic. Concrete 10 storey high rise, two suites per floor, allows pets, secure underground parking, two bedrooms (the master will easily take a king size bed and the 2nd bedroom, a queen), two bathrooms (I don't need to say a thing here, do I?), a balcony and a dishwasher. But the best, absolutely most incredible feature is the ensuite laundry. No more fumbling with bags of dirty clothes, detergent, change and keys only to find the one and only washer is in use and the one and only dryer has blown its fuse -- AGAIN! This was one of the reasons I wanted to move (and the fact that an electrician said our old building's wiring was so bad and such a fire hazard that it could combust at any moment and make the movie Backdraft look like a weenie roast).

I was also tired of strangers touching my unmentionables -- taking them out of the washer and throwing them on the dryer, or taking them out of the dryer and throwing them on the "laundry" table. I was very good about paying attention to the time, so it's not like I was leaving my things in the machines for hours -- 37 minutes per wash, 55 minutes per dry. But it would never fail, I would get to the laundry room just as the dryer should be shutting off only to discover my things scattered about willy-nilly. And once I had everything matched and neatly folded there was always one sock -- ONE SOCK!!! that was MIA. I would sometimes even check the invading laundry to see if my sock was stepping out on me with someone elses unmentionables. But no. It was gone. How is it possible?

I believe there is some worm hole in shared laundry rooms that socks disappear into. This has been confirmed by single socks popping up in random places around the building. On the bannister leading to the third floor, on the floor by the basement door, on the battered credenza in the front lobby. And these socks were never claimed by anyone (they are still there for all I know) which leads me to believe they didn't belong to anyone in our building but had popped out of the sock worm hole from another dimension. I'm sure Dr. Hawking has written about this phenomenon in "A Brief (and Sock) History of Time".

So it would make sense that ensuite laundry would ensure the boyfriend and I were the only ones fondling our flannels thus eliminating the whole sock vortex thing. But I have been foiled again. I have done laundry four times since moving in and I have lost two socks. At least I have a pair again.

I think this is what happens to my missing socks -- masticated into adorable lint creatures.

















(thanks to Ikyotachan on flickr)


ps - things are pretty much back to normal so I'll fill you all in on the boyfriend's 40th birthday and our trip to Vegas ... oh, and pics of my beautiful new home