Four years ago I slowly became aware that my socks were vanishing. At first I assumed it was my own messiness, and I was just losing track, but it kept happening and I became more observant. One morning I was certain: I was missing a pair of socks I was sure I had stuffed in my running shoes the night before.
Then I realized there were rats in the house, and I speculated that the rats might be building a nest out of my old sweaty socks (and bathing suit, and…). Today I found that nest. I was disassembling my bookcases, and under the base of one I found a pile of socks.
A very large pile of socks. It’s about a foot deep, and 2’8″ wide and 2″ tall. There’s a bathing suit there too. And a package of wrapping paper, and lots of torn up shreds of something.
Well, I’m glad to have found my socks at last. I suppose I better wash them before I use them again.
