Darn the Darning

This morning, rather unexpectedly, I took part in an archaeological find that I believe to be historically significant. We're still gathering evidence, but this find immediately calls into question the long held belief that socks disappear in the dryer.

Leading a search and rescue party desperately looking for the stuffed iguana that had escaped the bed over night, I stumbled upon a nest of unknown origin deep under box springs of the littlest member of the household. After careful examination, I determined that the nest was actually a gathering of sorts. This, gentle readers, was where socks go to die.

Like the mysterious elephant graveyards in Africa where aged elephants make their final stop, socks of all types seem to have congregated in this spot to never be seen again. This site, however, was notably different in it's variety. There were no-snow ankle types, long tube socks, dark dress socks, and warm and fuzzy slipper socks with cute little pandas on them. The one unifying factor was that these socks had long since been forgotten.

I counted 10, but the amount of dust, cobwebs, and nasty cling, made the identification process difficult. I anticipate a higher number once the lot is cleaned and tagged. Assessing a commercial value will be a challenge. However, we can now safely remove the unwarranted suspicions that the dryer has had to endure for decades.

Further exploration under the bed should be undertaken immediately. Trace evidence uncovered during the sock excavation leads this intrepid explorer to believe that near the sock graveyard lies the richest deposit of Hot Wheels the Northern hemisphere has ever witnessed...