Blog Post Six “🧦 “Is There a Ghost in My House or Am I Just Hearing Socks Move?”

📝 Blog Post 2.0
"Socks, Ghosts, and the Domestic Struggle"

I need to talk about socks.
Not because it’s deep. Not because it’s world-shifting.
But because it’s starting to feel like I’m living in a conspiracy.

Some of you think your missing socks are just bad laundry luck.
I’m telling you… it’s an operation.

I started the year with 14 pairs of the same black socks.
Not fancy. Not branded. Just solid, reliable, ‘let’s-get-through-life’ socks.

As of this morning?
I have 9 left socks. 3 right socks. And one that I swear is neither — like it’s from a parallel universe where socks are designed by drunk architects.

Here’s the kicker: I don’t live alone.
Which means I have suspects.
But when I ask? Everyone in this house either “doesn’t touch my stuff” or “hasn’t seen them.”

Oh, really?
So the Sock Fairy just waltzed in, took my right socks, and left me with a pile of useless lefts?
Cool. Guess I’ll just hop around all day.

And just when I thought I was losing my mind… the ghost showed up.

Yeah, a ghost.
Or a really ambitious draft.
Either way, there’s been knocking in the hallway at night — but here’s the thing: no one wants to check.

Last night, it was me, half-asleep, hoodie on, listening to the sound of something tapping like it was typing on the wall.
I’m not ashamed to admit I did not investigate.
Because in horror movies? The guy who goes to “check the noise” never makes it to the credits.
I like living.

So now I’m here, writing this, wondering:

• Is there a ghost in my house?

• Is the ghost stealing my socks?

• Or… is someone I live with gaslighting me into thinking socks just “vanish” naturally?

Either way, if I catch the ghost or the sock thief, I’m charging rent.

— Chaos Samuel

Writing without permission. Living without labels.