The Great Sock Mystery

I don't know where they go. I swear I put two socks in the washing machine, and somehow, when it's all done, only one comes out. Every. Single. Time. It's like there's a black hole inside the dryer that feeds exclusively on left socks. Or maybe my socks are just quitting on me and running away to start a new life. Either way, I now have a growing pile of lonely, unmatched socks sitting in a basket, each one hoping its partner will miraculously return.

I’ve tried everything—washing them in a mesh bag, folding them together before laundry, even counting them before and after. It doesn’t matter. The socks always win. At this point, I’m considering making a fashion statement out of mismatched pairs just to stay sane.

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