Whilst reorganising my sock drawer yesterday I came to the stark realisation that calamity had struck.
My sock was missing.
Of course, it was not just any sock, but half of the perfect pair. So I checked again. Pair, pair, pair, pair, another pair. No. No other lonely sock, temporarily separated from its mate. Just this single navy coloured sports sock, cut off at the ankle as it was from its pair.
I thought about this for a while, must all socks travel in pairs? Surely, there is a place in this drawer, indeed this world, for a single navy sport sock, with white and orange trim, to call its own.
Onwards I ruminate far beyond just this little lonely sock, far beyond socks at all.
But wait – perhaps the other navy sports sock had merely become entangled in an ill thought out encounter with a pair of svelte and leggy over the knee tights? Or maybe simply had taken leave of the sock drawer to explore the wooly depths of the dryer, or the damp and dangerous fields en route to the washing line. Or maybe, just maybe, it had become ensconced with those rainbow striped toes socks always loitering in that far off dusty corner.
Well, in any case, where ever my little lost navy sport sock was, I had the feeling it would come back one day. Maybe a little worse for wear, well travelled or well loved, I believed it would rejoin its mate again. So I folded up the now solitary navy sports sock, placed it carefully at the back of the drawer, ready for that hopeful day.
Underlying Overwhelming 