I'm not given to Seinfeld-esque observations because I'm simply not as funny as the man. However, there are quirky everyday mysteries that make you really wonder about the laws of physics and suchlike phenomenon.
One of them involves my laundry.
I saw this advertisement within my office building for an internal company campaign of some sort. It shows a washing machine and a single sock. The theme of the advertisement was: "Some things will always remain a mystery."
Tell me about it. One of the most mysterious (and infuriating) things about doing your laundry is sorting all your clothes once you are done. If you have clothes in the load which are prone to attracting static, heaven help you. By the time the dryer's done, many of your static-y clothes are filled with enough electricity to power a small bulb (I'm sure Mohan Bhargava could have put this idea to some use) and they are all sticking to each other. The worst culprits, of course are the socks. Invariably, one sock (or three, or five. It has to be an odd number) will go missing. After sorting all your laundry, you are left with that mysterious odd one out.
More than once in the past few months, I've had this wonderful mystery. All my laundry's put away, making for a successful weekend (or rather, a peaceful week ahead) and the next thing I know, there's a single sock left. It sits there, in the corner of my bedroom, in silent admonishment of a job badly done. I look at it before I go to sleep most nights, wondering if I should get up and turn my wardrobe upside down to search for it. Invariably, sleep is too tempting.
I dread the day when I'll wear a sweatshirt to work, and some pretty girl (the kind I absolutely don't want to be embarrassed in front of) will say "What's that sticking out of your sweatshirt"? and it'll turn out to be that pesky sock stuck to the inside of my fleecewear.
One of them involves my laundry.
I saw this advertisement within my office building for an internal company campaign of some sort. It shows a washing machine and a single sock. The theme of the advertisement was: "Some things will always remain a mystery."
Tell me about it. One of the most mysterious (and infuriating) things about doing your laundry is sorting all your clothes once you are done. If you have clothes in the load which are prone to attracting static, heaven help you. By the time the dryer's done, many of your static-y clothes are filled with enough electricity to power a small bulb (I'm sure Mohan Bhargava could have put this idea to some use) and they are all sticking to each other. The worst culprits, of course are the socks. Invariably, one sock (or three, or five. It has to be an odd number) will go missing. After sorting all your laundry, you are left with that mysterious odd one out.
More than once in the past few months, I've had this wonderful mystery. All my laundry's put away, making for a successful weekend (or rather, a peaceful week ahead) and the next thing I know, there's a single sock left. It sits there, in the corner of my bedroom, in silent admonishment of a job badly done. I look at it before I go to sleep most nights, wondering if I should get up and turn my wardrobe upside down to search for it. Invariably, sleep is too tempting.
I dread the day when I'll wear a sweatshirt to work, and some pretty girl (the kind I absolutely don't want to be embarrassed in front of) will say "What's that sticking out of your sweatshirt"? and it'll turn out to be that pesky sock stuck to the inside of my fleecewear.