For pieces of you
The origin of this science-fictiony response is in an episode of The New Twilight Zone called A Matter of Minutes.
Each moment of time is so carefully, so cunningly constructed, that we mere mortals are unaware of the tremendous work that goes on in the background just to make it all happen. If we could each be frozen in time for a nanosecond, we might see the dozens and dozens of construction workers that surround us always, constructing the reality of each moment, making sure that the letters we typed on the keyboard ... then ... are still there ... now. That the car we're driving is just an inch or two ahead ... now ... of where it was ... then. The moments pass so quickly, the construction goes on in a blur so fast that our eyes, our minds, can't register that it's happening. But it is.
Have you ever lost your keys, ever put them down and then couldn't find them, but the next time you looked, just a moment later, there they were? Have you ever wondered how that happens? It's because in that moment, that in-between moment between there and not-there, the construction crew forgot to put your keys in. When they built that particular moment in time, they left something out. Hey, they've got a lot on their plates; who can blame them? So they made a mistake, no biggie.
It's like that with the socks, almost. Almost.
It started back in the 40's or 50's once when their contract negotiations weren't going well, and their union voted on this job action, kind of like a work slowdown. They decided that nobody would miss the odd sock here or there out of place, out of time. There are so many socks, after all, it seems like everyone has so many of them. Who would miss one or two here or there?
They got their contract all right, but now and then you still get the disgruntled moment-constructor, or the sloppy one who can't quite get the job done on time. They leave a sock out of this moment and they never remember to put it back in the next one. Oh sure, sometimes they think of it down the road and they stick it back in somewhere, behind the dryer or under the bed. It's not as if we never find any of them, right?
So, you ask, where's the missing socks? The missing ones are the ones that were never built for the particular moment you're looking for them. They're not missing. They were never built.
It's shoddy workmanship, I tell you. Shoddy workmanship, plain and simple.
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I'm watching Degrassi
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