My favorite pair of handknit socks has had one missing sock for over a month. These are the ones which the dye lot was named after one of my favorite literary character, the ones that I was able to knit up to be identical despite the irregular stripping pattern, the ones that were pink and slightly girly, the ones that a friend brought back the yarn from overseas. I had turned my bedroom upside down and locked the lost sock's twin in a drawer so it would not wander off before I could reunite the pair.
I woke up and told my husband that I was officially calling the sock lost and I was going to put out an APB on the missing sock. I showed him the twin in the drawer. I went out of the bedroom, dressed the boys, fixed breakfast and packed their lunches. I went back into my room to get some library books and there laying on the floor in plain sight was my missing sock.
My husband swears he had nothing to do with it but I don't care either way. I haven't taken the socks off since. What once was lost, now is found.