The whispers started at dawn, wafting through the halls like a soufflé on a windy day. Technically, it wasn't dawn yet, but why argue with time? It has its own plans.
"If socks were meant to be paired, why do they sneak off to the laundry in singles?" Thus mused the apparition of Sir Theodore Fromage, a ghost with a penchant for domestic debates and questionable fashion advice.
Down the corridor, the whispered echoes carried tales of epic voyages—on the back of a sleepy cat, of course. "Armed with nothing but a feather duster and a questionable map," the voice continued, "the adventurer faced the throngs of laundry, braving the delicate cycle."
Reports vary, but some say Sir Theodore now resides in sock drawer limbo, where unmatched socks plot untoward escapes from old shoe boxes. If only he had listened to the whispers of wisdom.