I look at my watch, 6:00am, I’m running late. I lug my bucket through the crack in the wall and quickly locate the kitchen. The sound of you stumbling around trying to pull on your jeans tells me I just have time. In front of the fridge I pour a subtle spot of water and honey (for extra stick). Then I grab a handful of sand and dirt and scatter it along the path you’d take to the toaster. I hear the door to your room open and rush back to the crack. I didn’t even get time to hide one of your new matching socks, or pull out the stretch the elastic around the top. I suppose I’ll just have to make up for it at the next house, a sock gremlin’s work is never done.