I buy socks in bulk. Same brand. Same color. Industrial quantities. And STILL — every laundry day, I'm holding single socks like a detective with no leads.
Where do they go? I've checked behind the dryer, under beds, inside couch cushions. There's a portal somewhere in this house and it only eats socks.
After bedtime: one exhale, and I accept that somewhere out there is a thriving civilization built entirely on my children's socks.
Add comment
Comments