31/10/2024
Following yesterday's post, it has become clear that hair ties are just the tip of the Schrödinger's iceberg, and the real culprits are socks. I shall clear up why this is.
Every dwelling since the dawn of (sock wearing) time, comes with a Sock Fairy. House builders know this. Sock manufacturers know this. They are, however, sworn to secrecy under the 'Ye Olde Socke Act' of 1215.
During the building of a house, there are special passageways made that allow the SF access to three areas: your underwear drawer, your washing machine and your tumble drier. It knows exactly which socks to take...not the old ones with the worn out heel, but the lovely new ones that you bought to replace them. SF has a refined palate that yearns for fresh poly cotton.
The only way to appease SF is to carry out the sacrificial sock ritual in front of the tumble drier. This involves a bit of chanting and the un-twinning of your favourite pair. This should spare the rest for about a calendar year. I maintain that because of this appalling creature, socks should be sold in threes, but when I mentioned it to staff at Marks and Spencer, they called a security guard to es**rt me out of the building.
My revealing the existence of the Sock Fairy has potentially put my life in danger, so it's possible I may have to go into hiding for fear of retribution. Please know that I shall be safe so long as I live in a tent and keep washing my clothes in nearby streams. This seems perfectly do-able providing I don't mind the smell.
Yours, whistleblowingly.
Sarah
