I am a private detective of missing socks. One night, a distressed sock came in to my office worried sick about her partner who was last seen lying about the bedroom floor. The pair had a little argument over nothing and the next thing he was real gone. I finally tracked down the sock in Chinatown, but I was too late. I turned him over and found a hole the size of a penny right through the sole. Yeah, he was real gone all right and something didn't smell right. You never get used to this sort of thing. It's the reason I no longer handle lost mitten cases... just too damn sad.