There really is a monster eating all the socks. Or an elf who sneaks them away to put them on
AS my family’s wardrobe demands are increasing, I’m learning a lot. Such as the rule that nothing you buy in advance will ever fit, so there’s no use, even if it’s Buy 1, Get 50% off the other. (That equals only 25% off, by the way. Sales are sneaky like that.) Also, the year we buy headbands, everyone’s wearing bows. And the year we buy bows, everyone’s wearing sweatbands.
I’m also learning things about sock. No, not socks. Just sock.
The first thing I learned is that there really is a sock monster. Or elf. No, really.
Soon after my husband and I were married (so soon that my parents still footed the bill), a repairman came to inspect our dryer, which wasn’t closing properly. After he corrected the issue, the repairman showed us (because husbands still show interest in dryers during the first month of marriage) that little space that houses the rubber that goes all around the opening of the dryer.
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