Sock Monster lurks in laundry land

I don’t believe in outlandish things like aliens from outer space, the Boogeyman, La Llorona and bad luck on Friday the 13th. I have more important things to worry about, like the Sock Monster.

I have become totally convinced that there is a Sock Monster. While some people are trying to solve minuscule national problems, like the ozone layer, our federal deficit, how to save the Republican party from extinction and who killed JonBenet, I have a more perplexing problem that is just mind-boggling. I cannot figure out how my socks, which are carefully wrapped into pairs, keep separating and getting lost from their partners between the short walk from my apartment to the laundry room.

I firmly attest that I do not take any detours in between. The socks go straight from my basket to the washer and then from the washer to the dryer. Yet it happens every time! I start folding my laundry and neatly tucking it back into my drawers, and voila! There is always a sock missing from its pair. I check the washer and dryer again, and nothing!

It just blows me away! And that, my friend, is evidence of a Sock Monster, mysteriously lurking around laundry rooms, preying on poor little socks, taking them prematurely to that cushiony sock heaven above. Or perhaps the Sock Monster is more of a Robin Hood who takes from those who have socks and gives to the have-nots. The Sock Monster could also be a hired hit man by Hanes and Fruit of the Loom to keep us buying socks.

I have another theory. It could also be the ghost of Lamb Chop, seeking vengeance for being made into a hand puppet and being forced on national TV to sing “This is the Song That Doesn’t End.”

Like I said above, I don’t believe in outlandish things.

There was a time in my life when I believed in the Tooth Fairy. One morning my mom was dressing me for school and then she suddenly got quiet and said, “Did you hear that?” And I was like, “What? I didn’t hear anything.” And Mom says, “I heard the sound of bells ringing.” I did not hear any bells, but when she prompted me to go to my room and look under the pillow where I had laid my tooth that I lost the night before, voila! My tooth was gone and in its place was a handful of jingly coins. Not a bad profit, I thought to myself at the time.

Of course, as the years went on, I realized the Tooth Fairy was a scam when she forgot to come one time. I had my daughter, Laura, going on the Tooth Fairy charade until one time, early on, when the Tooth Fairy was not able to come on the expected night. This had nothing to do with the fact that I had no cash in my purse.

And so the tooth remained under Laura’s pillow for a couple of nights, until mysteriously, the Tooth Fairy happened to pay a visit and reclaim her tooth on the day I got paid. She left Laura compensation for the loss, plus interest for the late payment.

I was a little more gullible than Laura as a child. They had me going about the Santa Claus thing, too, until about age 10. I remember my sister Becky and I being really concerned one year as to how Santa Claus would make his big appearance since we didn’t have a fireplace. We finally agreed that he would come in through the radiator in the hall, and so we hung our stockings there.

As I grew older and wiser, but not much taller, I finally learned not to believe everything I hear. Nowadays, children are not so gullible, so I say forget about the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, La Llorona and the Boogeyman. You had better warn them, instead, about the Sock Monster.

Helena Rodriguez is a columnist for Freedom Newspapers of New Mexico. She can be reached at:

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