My Socks Are Having Wild Bunny Sex
There is no other explanation, no matter what my husband says.
Note: a previous edition of this story appeared on Medium under the title “Sock Procreation.”
“I have put a lot of thought into this. I think the white socks are having wild bunny sex and reproducing in the hamper when we aren’t looking.” I stood looking down at the laundry hamper set aside for the whites.
My husband let my statement sit there for a moment. “All the socks or just the white?”
“Just the white.” I pointed to the dark clothes, resting in their own hamper. “The dark socks never multiply like the white.”
He didn’t even step into the closet to look at the hamper I was pointing to. He just said, with a very matter of fact voice, “I don’t think the white socks are having sex. How would that even work?”
“Okay, maybe not actual sex. Socks don’t really have a gender, do they? Maybe they are more like an individual amoeba. You know. Cell division.”
This time I could hear the smile in his voice, “You think my white socks are dividing like single-cell creatures and creating identical versions of themselves?”
“I just don’t see any other explanation for the number of white socks that are in this basket.”
He laughed. “Maybe the cats returned socks they borrowed.”
“When have the cats returned anything? If there were missing socks, I’d say we should look under the couch. Everything the cats liberate end up under the couch.” At this point, one of our cats decided to investigate the dark clothes hamper. “See? Xander is avoiding the white socks.”
“Seriously, the real answer is that you forgot to do the white load last week so there are two weeks’ worth of white socks in that basket. Sorry to burst your bubble. My socks aren’t spontaneously multiplying.” He was over the idea of sock sex.
He leaned into the closet where I still stood and gave me a kiss. I couldn’t give it my full attention. My mind was on socks and amoebas. He wandered off.
I looked down at Xander. “I think the white socks are reproducing.”
Xander agreed with me. I’m sure of it. I picked up the basket of white socks and carried it toward the laundry room.
After a few seconds, Xander followed me.
If you liked this, you may like my cat Xander’s advice:
