Dear Thing That Hides My Stuff
What’s your obsession with my socks?
Just thought I’d write this letter to say hi, to you, who has been getting familiar with my things, as I thought I’d get more familiar with you.
Now I don’t know much about you, apart from you just must like my stuff. Stuff like, for example, my keys, my socks, my pens, my phone, you know, the things I often find necessary to survive in this life, and maybe make it that bit more bearable. You take them, and you hide them.
Then I go look for them, causing me to go around my flat and upend it. Cushions everywhere, items scattered, the lot. Then you laugh. You must laugh, even though it’s not quite audible, as suddenly I find them again.
I get it, I get it, it’s a joke. Maybe it’s funny to you. How you get your kicks. I assume you are British, due to your well-developed sense of irony. You usually hide the items in the place I should have looked at first. Or even, now I don’t know how you do this, but on my person. I could have sworn I left it somewhere close, but I find it on a shelf. Or in a coat pocket somewhere. Or in the case of my glasses, on my face. Genius.
You're wasting your comedic talents, you really are. You should write for the telly. Or maybe Netflix. A prank show has your name on it. Or an innovative gameshow. I can see the gleaming toothed gameshow host introducing it now: ‘Let’s get ready for: Hiding your stuff!’
I mean, what really are you? You must be quite small, as I haven’t found you yet. Maybe you are even invisible? Or because you are so good at hiding my stuff, maybe you yourself are good at hiding.
You are not a Borrower. Or a Smurf. You are just a pain in the backside.
But at least you give things back. Eventually. Mostly. There are still some things I do search for. At this moment, the point. As in the point of this letter. And possibly my sanity, as you seem to take that so often and put in your bag with the rest of the marbles. And before I move anymore, I must come to a close with a request. Next time you steal something, maybe leave a note? Or at least a breadcrumb trail for clues.
I’m going to leave this letter somewhere random in my flat.
I know you’ll find it.
Wherever I get it back…well, that’s another matter.
Yours searchingly,
Stefan
