THE DRYER DID IT

Laundry equipment sure gets a bad rap. If it isn’t the washer, it’s the dryer. They have been accused of eating more socks then we have been accused of losing them.

Personally I’ve always been pretty good at keeping track of laundry. I know what I put in the washer and what comes out of the dryer. I admit I do not check the laundry piece-by-piece between the washer and dryer. I did my laundry on Saturday morning and I noticed a sock was missing. Naturally I accused the washer and then the dryer of eating my sock. If they did eat it, they must have swallowed it whole. There was not a trace to be found.

I searched the area around the machines. I retraced my steps between my apartment and the laundry room. Nothing! I dug around the area of my laundry basket in my bedroom. Nothing! I gathered up what I had and returned home. I was sure it would show up when I began to put my things away. I was quite sure it was caught up in the sheets somewhere. Fitted sheets are notorious for hiding small pieces of laundry in their corners. You would think their mother would have taught them better. Still nothing!

I was bewildered. No, I was flustered. No, I was flustwildered. I know I took it to the laundry and yet it is no where to be found. I know I’m old, but I doubt I am senile yet. But they do say you are the last to know. So who knows? Maybe the people are just being kind by not mentioning my declining mental capacity.

I was not going to give that sock another moments thought. I had other socks. I could live without one sock.

I showered and shaved and got dressed for church. I had never been to the Saturday night service and wanted to attend. I walked over expecting a nearly full sanctuary, but the attendance was about the same as the first service on Sunday morning. But it was a lively crowd. I loved the message. I have heard the preacher many times before and he is more than acceptable. But that night I heard his heart. Something special came through. I sat and talked with him about it after the service.

I came home and actually went to bed a little earlier than usual. I read and did not turn the TV on. I did the same thing when I woke up the next morning. I am enjoying my book with the vulgar language (very little now that I’m passed the first chapter). Late afternoon I got a call that there was cheesecake upstairs. I threw on the same sweatshirt I had worn the night before and joined a small group eating cheesecake and fresh strawberries.

While eating I was bothered by my sweatshirt sleeve. It felt twisted and I tried to straighten it out. But it moved. I could roll it around my arm. I reached up my sleeve and pulled out — wait for it — my missing sock. Well I was glad to find it but I want to know where it was Saturday night. Makes one wonder.