What happens to the socks that get lost in your washing machine?

I’ve seen many strange things in my life. But nothing is anywhere close to what happened last summer.

I refuse to believe in paranormal activities, but I guess now I have no choice, but to believe in a parallel world… inside my washing machine.

And I’m writing this because I need to make sense of what I saw; and also, I want to share with you, my beloved readers, what happened that hot summer day, and the events that preceded it.

Part 1. A Colourful Christmas Gift

My mum likes giving me socks for Christmas. She knows I like funky colourful socks for home (well, sometimes I even go out with them if the outfit is asking for it); specially in winter when they can become the best company — together with the hot water bottle — when cold and humidity become an inseparable part of the property.

Three years ago, she bought me a pair of thick pink socks with small planets and stars on it, “because your feet are never on the ground, dear,” she laughed. I called them The Spacesocks and wore them proudly throughout the whole winter.

Part 2. Laundry day with a bitter end

8th February.

Saturday mornings are laundry days. Laundry is probably my favourite chore, I don’t know  why, but there’s something satisfying about it.

I emptied the basket in the washing machine and put it on. When it was over, I hung the clothes on the sunny part of the terrace, but I realised that one of the Spacesocks was missing. “I must have forgotten it in the drum,” I thought. But it wasn’t there. I looked around in case I dropped it on my way to the terrace, but I couldn’t find it. I sighed.

“I guess it was time to say goodbye.” 

I went back to the terrace to throw the widowed sock away, there was no point in keep it. But something inside me was telling me not to do it. “Yeah, it’s a cool sock, I might use it for my crafts.”

Part 3. An unexpected visit

22nd July.

It was a hot Saturday, and like every Saturday morning, it was laundry day. The thought of going out on the scorching sun to hang clothes was making me sweat even more, but it had to be done.

When I started taking out the wet clean clothes out of the washing machine, I froze.

“No. It can’t be…. It’s…. it’s impossible!”

There, in front of my eyes and on top of a pair of blue running shorts, lied the pink Spacesock. The same sock I thought I had lost for ever months ago.

“Why? How? Where?”

So many questions, too few answers.

Part 4. The reunion

The lost sock was in the same state as before it disappeared: same colour and same level of wear. “I’m so glad I didn’t get rid of the other sock!”

I opened the underwear drawer, rummaged in search of the lonely sock and rolled them together.

“I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe,” the lost sock whispered to its partner, still shaking as they reunited in the underwear drawer.


As I write these lines, I still don’t know what happened, nor what did the lost Spacesock experience, see or visit. I’m afraid to ask it, because if there’s something I’ve learned in this life, is that some questions, shouldn’t be answered.

But one thing I know for sure: that lost sock doesn’t feel the same on my foot anymore.

Note of the author: This story is based on true facts.

If you like socks, you may also want to read: Carta de un calcetín suicida (Letter of a suicidal sock)