Friends, I must make a confession: I am living with a beast.
Not just any beast. Not the kind you read about in fairy tales that huffs and puffs or breathes fire. No, this one is sneakier, more cunning, and far hungrier. I call it: The Sock & Tupperware Monster.
By day, it lurks unseen, blending into the shadows of laundry piles and the back corners of kitchen cupboards. But by night? Oh, by night it prowls—quietly feasting on the most random, inconvenient household items.
Its diet is… eclectic.
- One sock from every matching pair. Never both. Always one. The Monster thrives on creating chaos in my laundry routine. My drawers are a museum of sock widows—single polka dots, lonely stripes, and one fuzzy Christmas sock who may never see its partner again.
- Tupperware lids. Not the cracked ones. Not the weird round ones that never fit anything. No, the Monster craves the exact lid I need when I’m rushing out the door with leftovers.
I imagine it with glowing eyes, crouched in the pantry at midnight, burping happily as it gnaws on a BPA-free lid, whispering, “This will drive her crazy tomorrow.”
I’ve tried to outsmart it—buying multipacks of socks, investing in whole new sets of containers. But alas, the Monster is relentless. The more I buy, the more it eats.
Sometimes I think about staging an intervention. Sitting it down and saying, “Listen, you’ve got to leave me at least one decent set of socks and a lid that fits my spaghetti container.” But would it listen? No. Because monsters never listen.
So, I’ve accepted my fate. I wear mismatched socks like a rebel fashion statement. I cover my food with foil like a camping pioneer. And I tell myself—maybe the Monster just needs a little love. After all, if I had to choose between eating kale or a nice stretchy sock… well, I might make the same choice.
So if you come to visit and see me walking around with one pink sock and one plaid, just know—I am not quirky. I am surviving. Surviving in the lair of the Sock & Tupperware Monster.
Leave a comment