The Rescue of the Socks, part 2

I thought my socks were safe, because every time Pepita does the laundry now, she asks me which socks are mine. But the other day, I noticed my one pair of warm wool socks was missing. Sadly, I found one of the socks in the missing-the-partner sock basket on top of the dryer. For most missing-the-partner socks, the partner never gets found. But yesterday, I was about to go up the stairs to my apartment when I saw a sock resting on the bottom railing of the stairs. To my delight, it was my other wool sock! I’ve mentioned before that the view from my window is of my underwear (and socks) hanging out to dry. I can only assume that from this precarious perch my poor sock fell three floors down to the tiled courtyard from whence some kind soul rescued it. I happily re-paired my socks and put them in my drawer.

Upon rescuing the sock from the missing-the-parter basket, however, I noticed another of my socks (a plain white one, thankfully) languishing there. Bummer. But at least it’s just a boring old white sock.

Tonight, as I was leaving to go to CiberDenia after dinner (to plan my trip around Europe!), Pepita stopped me. “Before you come back up,” she said, “go out to where the pool is (that’d be the courtyard), because some of your socks fell down.” !!! My socks! And sure enough, there on the ground were not one but TWO of my poor wet socks, waiting for someone to come rescue them…