This does not explain why the washer seems to eat my socks. Or why one runs
out of bobbypins and paperclips, when one lives alone and is not in the habit
of making hairdos or doing paperwork off the premises. I can't blame the
cats - their hair isn't long enough and they can't read. There is something evil
out there armed with a tiny magnet, and it comes after dark and runs off
with my stuff. It doesn't go bump in the night, but it wears mis-matched socks.
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