The Sock Mystery

Every Sunday morning when we do the laundry, I end up with one sock missing. You know how it is, a black sock or an argyle and suddenly you can't find its match for months. But here's my secret: I never lost that sock in the first place. One day, while we were all watching TV after dinner on a Saturday night, I saw Mom grab a couple of socks from the laundry basket to put away. It was just an argyle patterned pair like mine, and there wasn't enough light for her to tell which ones belonged to who. I knew that if she found out about my missing sock disappearing act, it would be too embarrassing. So, I quietly took one of those socks back from the drawer Mom had put them in after we went to bed. Now, every week when laundry day rolls around and I 'find' a new argyle sock hiding somewhere bizarre (or so I tell everyone), there's no way anyone can prove that it was never lost at all. It feels like cheating but also kind of funny because who loses a sock for months only to find it the next week? Me, apparently.