Remember this post , back in February, when my son, the one and only, best beloved , left home to go flatting ?…..w.e.e.e.l.l…….I would not need to hire dear Monsieur Poirot* (* possible, but unlikely, spoiler alert) to tell me that said son has returned to the fold. The evidence is clear.
And, if those signs were not compelling enough to indicate a son-in-residence, this one is indisputable.
How is this possible? Where does the other half go? Perhaps I do need Monsieur Poirot, after all, to help solve this mystery that is as old as the sock itself? Even if he were not able to find the missing items, he would surely throw some psychological light on the subject of sons and socks and mothers who treat their own socks like this ….which is very just so..
But more mysterious than the missing socks,
(and here I might require some fanciful intervention from Mr Kipling because I fear I am now seeking answers in a realm beyond Monsieur Poirot’s logical mind )
is that mismatched socks may appear in the laundry, but I do not know when my son ever wears socks, in pairs or otherwise. Every time we meet in the house, or in the garden, he is barefooted.
Be that as it may, it is good to hear the noise and the quiet of him again. And little Jack is thrilled to be able to race upstairs, once more, and find a ready place to snuggle down with his best buddy.
Number one son, best beloved, may not be home for long. This is just an interlude between the end of the academic year and whatever he plans to do next. Should I suggest a job involving socks…selling, finding, darning, washing, knitting….thereof???
(Isn’t it fun that there’s always a good yarn to be had from a sock 😀 😀 :D? Yes, you may groan! )