My black cashmere sock has resurfaced after a good year and a half. You are perhaps wondering what would possess me to hang onto one mismatched sock for so long. Well, the reason is threefold. One, it’s cashmere. It was expensive, as far as socks go. And I knew that if I were to ever buy a replacement pair, I would undoubtedly, at some point, lose one of them. So then I would still have a complete pair. But look at THESE. So cute and affordable. Secondly, things have a way of disappearing and reappearing around here at a somewhat alarming rate (as you may have noticed). I’ve learned to roll with it. Usually they don’t stay missing for long. This particular sock must have been having a really epic adventure. I guess the rich really do have more fun. And no, I have nothing to do with these possessions that come and go like mosquito bites. It’s merely a hazard of living with a scatterbrained writer. And finally, I mean, how much room does one sock take? Hardly any. It cost me nothing to leave it when I organized my sock drawer last weekend (no, really, it’s true. Don’t envy my crazy rockstar lifestyle). So anyway, it magically appeared tonight when I went down to the laundry room and gathered up some odds and ends from the table. I know my darling husband didn’t have…