Land of Left Socks

For $1.25, you can go to a happier place. It took me $11.25 and a full Sunday to figure this out, but I suppose the price of passage depends on the cost of your laundromat. Or if you own a functioning dryer at home, your trip is free.

I won't tell you about the tedious trial and error that led to my discovery – how I eliminated washing machines from the equation or how I fiddled with the dryer settings and weight distributions for the optimal number of disappearing left socks.

I will tell you about how losing left socks used to be the bane of my existence. Sure, you can try to make do with two right socks, but that will eventually leave you unbalanced. Oh, and if you can't tell the difference between right and left socks, then you're probably beyond my help.

What you'll need if you visit my laundromat: 5 quarters, 10 clothespins, 10 pairs matched socks, and the willingness to follow a few simple steps.

Step 1) Use clothespins to keep matched socks together

Step 2) Place sock-clothespin combinations into dryer

Step 3) Put dryer on permanent press setting

Step 4) Insert quarters and wait for cycle completion

Step 5) Remove load from dryer, and proceed to Step 7 if you find any unpaired right socks

Step 6) If no unpaired right socks dangling from clothespins, then repeat steps 2-4

Step 7) Place one right unpaired sock on right foot

Step 8) Walk around one-socked until you feel changed (do not wear shoes)

And that's what I did that first Sunday afternoon. I one-socked it about until change came, and I looked down to see that the missing left sock of the pair had somehow reappeared on my naked foot. Looking back up, I realized that my surroundings had changed as well – not drastically so but enough to tell the difference.

The differences between the land of left socks and our own world can be subtle, but they count. The dogs there are friendlier, and the food has this extra spice to it. The sunsets are slightly more majestic, and people don't make a big deal if you feel like walking around in just a pair of socks. Just last Sunday, I was ordering a sandwich from a deli and forgot my wallet. The lady behind me offered to pay, but the cashier said that I could just pay the store back when I came in next.

As you might imagine, I'm usually reluctant to travel back to our world. All the same, I find a laundromat (the laundromats over there are cleaner by the way) and basically repeat the same steps listed above, the only key difference being that the right socks vanish instead. When I feel the change with the reappearing right sock, it's always accompanied by a sense of loss.

That's why, this Sunday in the land of left socks, I have decided to trade in my socks for a pair of sandals. If you're in my laundromat and reading this letter, then maybe we'll cross paths soon.