Dear House Gremlin (or should I call you Sock Monster?),
Now you’ve done it. Now you’re making me really, REALLY mad. 😈
Remember that conversation we had? The one where I asked you nicely to give me back my toe socks? Yeah, that one.
Well let me tell you, mister. NOWHERE in that conversation was there an agreement to trade socks. NO WHERE. I didn’t say bring me back the black ones and you can take the white ones. Nope. I didn’t.
I didn’t say “Let’s trade.” I didn’t say, “Hey, why don’t you sneak the black pair in the bottom of my shirt pile and take the white ones that I’ve set aside in a special place where there would be NO chance of them ‘accidently’ getting taken for something else.” Nope. I didn’t.
So here’s the deal. I want my white toe socks back. I want them now. I don’t want to hear your excuses.
I noticed you waited until I had worn and washed them. I don’t care if your feet are cold because it’s winter. If your feet are cold, you are welcome to use any of the non-sock yarn I’ve collected through the years. There is plenty there for you to have. I won’t even notice.
But. The. Socks. Have. Got. To. Come. Back.
I mean, really. If you’re going to take them, the least you can do is make them multiply. If you can get them to do that, shoot, I’ll throw in a pair (of non-toe socks) for my thanks.
P.S. Mike still needs his wrench, too. You can make ammends by bringing that back to him. He’s been waiting a while.
P.P.S. I’ll be watching. You’d better get your sneak on before I decide to take drastic measures that I promise you will not like. 😯