Tearful reunion.

Good news! I have found my other blue soccer sock.

I was pretty bent out of shape about losing it, as it had faithfully seen me through Greyskull's inaugural season, and the remaining sock was heartbroken and listless without its mate. It kept telling its new friends all about the crazy things they used to do in the auxiliary gym at Baruch College (like the time they managed to score a goal, much to everyone's surprise). But the new kids in the sock drawer didn't really appreciate the stories and eventually started avoiding Blue Sock because he was depressing them. They were unable to focus on preparing for next week's Greyskull FC v. Bohemians rematch (who will get tapped? Green? Yellow? Red?).

You're probably wondering how I came to reunite the Blue Sock with Other Blue Sock. Did I hear Other Blue Sock's weeping issuing from a barred basement window in the neighborhood? Did I break into said basement to find her chained to an office chair, dirty and starving and writing farewell notes to Blue Sock on toilet paper?

Did I see her parading about the neighborhood on the leg of some stranger, whose other sock was suspiciously off-hue?

No. My friends, in a fit of fashion crisis this weekend (laundry day's not far off), I was rummaging around my drawers and pulled out a sweatshirt. This sweatshirt had gone into the wash along with my footie kit last week. I unfolded the sweatshirt and, sure enough, Other Blue Sock was clinging to its soft insides.

She was shaky and sobbing with joy at being discovered, and much relieved to be delivered to Blue Sock. After the moving embrace pictured here (the soccer accoutrements are purely coincidental, I swear... though do note the adorable soccer ball-printed flip flops that Claire gave me), I returned them to the sock drawer where the dynamic sock quartet (or, would it be octet?) began plotting future glories on the pitch together.

Moving, no?