If you have a house that you live in, you probably have a thief residing right under your four walls that you can't do anything about. I know I have one; I can't prove it yet, but I know it's there.
Last year, before I went to NYC for consulting assignment, I went out and bought some socks so that I could bring my total number of pairs of socks up to 21. Not that we didn't do laundry each week, but sometimes it would be a very short weekend before I was on the road again, so we didn't always get the clean laundry folded on a weekly basis.
Two weeks ago I did all the laundry, and went looking for all my socks to fold up. Lo and behold, I only had 9 pair of socks, and 7 individual socks that went to nothing. I asked my wife if socks might be hiding elsewhere, and she said not that she could think of.
But I knew where they were, and there's not much I can do about it. My washing machine is eating my socks, and I think my wife knows it. Not that I think she's a collaborator, but I think she didn't want to tell me because she thought I might do something weird like go into the laundry area and conduct my own version of a strip search. Not that I have a history for such things, but my dad did take apart a dishwasher, saying it was going to clean it and put it back together, and, well, that didn't quite work out (not only that, but Cosby stole the story from us).
Anyway, I'm not quite sure what to do about it. Maybe I need to adopt what my wife does, the other reason I think she's in on it. When she washes her socks, she rolls them up just a little bit so it makes a small ball on one end. I've always thought that kept both socks from getting totally clean, but now I'm thinking there's a method to her madness.
Sneaky; both the machine, and the wife. I think they're out to get me.







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