I’ve been asking The Princess for some time now where she left a pair of
hand-knitted socks I made for her last year (in fact, I was knitting
them at the Festival of Homiletics, in the balcony of the Peachtree Road United Methodist Church and in the hotel room I shared with St. Casserole, my entertainment while she watched American Idol Taylor Hicks).
It’s somewhat irritating when a whole pair of hand-knitted socks disappears, wouldn’t you agree?
Tonight Pure Luck and I were out for a walk, and I had a sudden, urgent need when we were about halfway around our loop and therefore almost as far from home as we could get. Much closer by was the home of The Father of My Children, where the children had gone for dinner. We turned in that direction, and he graciously allowed me the use of the facilities.
Guess what I saw sitting on the radiator in his bathroom?
It would be impossible to sit there and not see them. I mean, really quite impossible.
What is the moral of this story? Seek a restroom, and ye shall find lost socks?