Hi. Richard Gyle here just hangin' out in the dryer. I'm the "other" sock. That's right: R. Gyle. Pleased to meet you. Now don't get me wrong. I don't have a predisposition to step out on my partner and snuggle up to other articles of clothing. Well not on purpose, anyway. But there are times I'll go missing. Yes, for weeks at a time. Like now. That's me. R. Gyle It all started several weeks ago when my wife, Ruby, and I - yes, she's an R. Gyle, too - were just hanging out in the laundry basket with our four friends all named Robert. Yeah, that's right a bunch of bobby soxers, real throwbacks to the 50s. Anyway, in the midst of a deep discussion on the benefits of charcoal deodorant shoe inserts imagine our surprise when we were dumped out on the laundry room floor. Oh boy, I thought, a sock hop. But no, this was no dance. Darn. Nope, this was a free for all. Someone must have thought we were kind of stinky because we all got dumpe