Why? That is the beginning of a couple of questions I demand answers to.
Why do you develop holes so quickly? It’s not like you’re that expensive, but having to buy several pairs of you a couple of times each year gets old really fast. And it adds up. It almost makes me wish I had gotten you for Christmas, even though you’re easily one of the worst presents ever.
Why do you decide to go missing from the laundry so easily? I swear, half the time I do laundry and go to put all my clothes away, there is at least one of you sitting unmatched when I’m done. Sometimes there’s more than one of you chilling by yourselves if I’ve done multiple obviously different kinds of you in the same load. I know single life is fun and all, but that’s not what you, as socks, are supposed to do. You’re supposed to be paired off. Live that way.
I wish I already knew the answers to those questions. If I did, I wouldn’t be writing you this letter. But I don’t know why you do these things. I don’t have the answers, and I want them. Especially about the holes. My feet are getting cold.