Now they're just messing with me

For the past year, I've been finding socks all over my house. Clean, dirty, questionable...doesn't matter. I find them on the kitchen counter, in the hallway, on the porch....I even found one in the van. At least once a week, I discover a rogue sock far removed from where it belongs.

I took to shrieking, because that's always an effective parenting tool, right? It only drew laughter from the sock-owners. And now?

My kitchen-towel drawer? Really?

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