Yay! It has turned up, like the proverbial bad penny.
Like a ghost train going to nowhere, the remaining slipper sock- recovered from the washing machine- sat, sat and sat. "It's time", I thought, after six months of looking at it resting in a corner of the kitchen, "to get rid of the darn thing". I thought about other uses for the sock, like a glove duster, it wasn't really suitable for it.
The day of execution arrived. As I rolled out of bed, hubby grumbled "you've got a sock on the floor"..."I must have dropped it last night". It probably missed the laundry basket. As I dozily reached for the familiar object, I wondered how it appeared on the bedroom floor from the kitchen. Okay, the easiest way to find out was to check. Sock in hand, I ventured to where it should have been. Oh! I had two the same. The pair of slipper socks are now happily resting in rolled proximity to one another.