All of the lost left socks are in a black hole

Here I sit, wearing two socks of differing length. They are both white—both sport the Nike swoosh. However, they are of differing length. One was obviously the victim of a freak shrinking accident at some point in its life.

I, being of attention-to-detail, painstakingly match the lengths of my socks as I ball them so as to avoid such situations. However, I invariably come across the two that I am currently wearing: incompatible, of differing thickness, the root of all madness!

As a result, one calf is of lower temperature than the other, which is unfortunate.

Some would advise me to discard these two socks, which I find to be immoral. I cannot, in good conscience, throw away socks that do not have holes in the soles!

I accept my lot in life—that once every laundry washing cycle I will be unbalanced in soul, spirit, and socks.