Without a pair.

I am amazed at how many socks are missing their pairs. No matter how often I attempt to scour the house, they are nowhere to be found. And every time I do laundry that pile of pairless socks seems to grow.

The dryer must eat them. But you'd think at a quarter to 4 a.m. I'd be able to come up with a more clever theory than that.

I do still have plans to make these pairless socks into sockpuppets one day. Only there aren't enough hands to fill them. Then again, there is the most practical solution: the garbage can.