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It's 3:47 AM. The laundry room is pitch black. You fumble for the light switch.
As you turn on the light, the air is thick with the scent of fabric softener sheets and despair.
You scan the room, your eyes adjusting to the harsh glare of the overhead light. The washer and dryer stand like sentinels, their metal exteriors reflecting the light like mirrors.
A faint rustling sound comes from the dryer. You approach it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest.
You lift the lid, and a lone sock peers back at you, its mate nowhere to be found.
What do you do?
Negotiate with the Sock. Scream about the Laundry Day Nightmares. Join the Sock Hunters' Guild.