Strange things happen to humans but stranger things happen to Mr. B. in particular. He is a natural magnet to things strange and unusual.
This morning at breakfast in the small hotel we are staying, Mr. B. was enjoying his toast with butter and honey in the empty restaurant when a lady server approached him.
"Pardon monsieur, est-ce que c'est votre?" she said pointing somewhere in the buffet table area.
With his limited French, Mr. B. tried to process what the lady was saying but looked to the general direction of where she was pointing. And there, lying on the tiled floor, alone and cold, was a single black sock; at the exact area where Mr. B. stopped a few minutes ago to get cheese. Even a few meters away, Mr. B. instantly recognized the lonely black sock. It was his.
"Non!!" he replied indignantly with an attitude comparable to St. Peter denying Jesus, only he didn't do it 3 times for that would give him away.
What would you have done if you were the lady server? Just shrug your shoulder, pick up the poor sock and dump it in the bin, which was exactly what the lady did.
How did the unfortunate sock got there? Static probably caused it to attach itself to Mr. B. jacket from the room to the hotel restaurant until it can't no longer hold itself and had to drop to the floor. It could have attached itself to Mr. B.'s head and he probably wouldn't notice. The only consolation was that the sock was clean and unused.
Now the real question is. Where is the other one and what should Mr. B. do with it?