Home Sweet Home

Home is where you can ask the weirdest questions with nobody around to hear. Except the walls. The walls hear everything.

451. Where do socks go when they disappear in the dryer?

To a better place, where all the single socks live together. They're happy there. Don't go looking. It's a quiet village called Lintland, just behind the dryer's drum, with cozy homes made of fluff, a town hall made of a lost mitten and a mayor who is a single argyle sock with a hole in the heel. They hold dances every Friday, though nobody can find a partner. Scientists say socks actually get stuck in the rubber seal, fall behind the drum or hide inside fitted sheets (see question 462). Lintland residents say scientists are spreading lies.

452. Is making my bed pointless if I'm getting back in it

tonight?

Making your bed is a tiny promise to future you. Future you is grateful, and will mess it up immediately. A made bed makes the whole room look 40% cleaner, even if there's a laundry mountain on the chair (see question 473). Soldiers are trained to make beds so tight a coin bounces off them. Your bed doesn't need to be that tight; it just needs the blanket to be roughly on top. If you're the kind of person who doesn't make their bed, you're in good company. Cats never make their beds either, and they seem extremely well rested.

453. Why does every home have one drawer full of random

stuff?

It's practically the law. The junk drawer holds rubber bands, batteries of unknown power and a key to nothing (see question 490). Also: twist ties, birthday candles, a takeout menu from a restaurant that closed, a screwdriver with no screws, a pen that only works when you press very hard, three soy sauce packets, a single dice and an instruction manual for a blender you no longer own. Archaeologists of the future will dig up our junk drawers and decide we worshipped rubber bands. They won't be entirely wrong. The drawer never closes all the way. That's part of its charm.

454. Can I vacuum the vacuum?

You can, but both vacuums will become self-aware and start discussing their feelings. The first vacuum will say "I clean all day and nobody cleans me." The second will say "I know, right?" They'll form a support group, and soon the robot vacuum will join and complain about being kicked by the cat. Technically, cleaning your vacuum's filter and emptying its bin is a great idea, and it'll suck much better afterwards. Just don't let them get too close for too long. They'll start a union. Then the toaster wants in, and that's the end of breakfast.

455. Why does the dishwasher need me to wash the dishes

before it washes them?

It's insecure. It wants to look good without trying too hard. Many dishwasher makers actually say you only need to scrape food off, not rinse, because modern detergents work best when they have a little mess to grab. But humans don't trust this. They pre-wash every plate until it sparkles, then put it in the dishwasher, which washes a clean plate and takes all the credit. It's like cleaning your house before the cleaner comes. Everyone does it. Nobody can explain why. The dishwasher is secretly delighted.

456. If I clean my room, will anyone notice?

They'll notice the one thing you missed under the bed. That's how it works. You'll spend four hours folding, dusting and organizing your bookshelves by colour. Your parent or roommate will walk in, look around and say "what's that sock doing there?" pointing at a single sock you somehow didn't see. That sock is a spy from Lintland (see question 451). Nobody will say "wow, your room is clean." They'll just sniff the air suspiciously and ask what you want. The only reward for cleaning is a clean room, which lasts about a day and a half.

457. Is dust just tiny furniture?

Dust is partly skin flakes, fibres and dirt from outside. So yes, some of it is you. You live in a room that's slightly you. Gross, but true. Dust also contains pollen, pet hair, bits of insects and, scientists believe, tiny specks of space dust that fall to Earth every day. So the dust on your bookshelf is part you, part cat, part moth and part universe. That makes dusting a strangely cosmic chore. When you blow dust off an old book, you're scattering a little bit of the solar system and your own elbow. Sneeze responsibly.

458. Why does the toilet paper always run out at the worst

moment?

It's a test of character. The roll knows. It waits until you're sitting, comfortable and committed, and then reveals its bare cardboard tube like a magician showing an empty hat. Then you have to call out to the house for help, or perform the famous "penguin shuffle" to the cupboard. Experts recommend always checking the roll before you sit. Nobody follows this advice. Families argue for decades about whether the paper should go over or under the roll. The answer is over, according to the original patent drawing from 1891. Under-people are furious about this.

459. Can I paint my walls with ketchup if I'm out of red

paint?

You can, but your house will smell like fries and every dog in the neighbourhood will move in. Ketchup also dries into a sad brownish colour, so your bold red feature wall will look like a rusty barn within a week. Mustard would make a nice yellow, and relish a green, but now your living room is a hot dog. Some ancient paints really were made from food: eggs, milk and berries. They didn't use ketchup, because it hadn't been invented yet and because their ancestors had standards. Buy real paint. Save the ketchup for the fries. The fries need it more.

460. Why do doors only squeak at night?

During the day, nobody's sneaking. At night, the door feels it has a job to do. Doors squeak all day too, but the TV, traffic and conversations drown them out. At night, in total silence, a squeak sounds like a haunted ship. Every horror movie uses a squeaky door for this reason. A drop of oil on the hinges will fix it, but many people never get around to it, and the door becomes the house's official night guard. Parents of teenagers have been known to keep squeaky doors on purpose. It's cheaper than a security system and twice as effective.

461. Is it okay to own a couch that's older than me?

If it's comfortable, it's an heirloom. If it's lumpy, it's a relic. If it's plaid, it's a historical artifact from the 1970s, and a museum may contact you. Old couches have seen things: Christmas mornings, sick days, first dates, a dog who was not allowed on it but definitely was. The cushions have permanent dents shaped like the family members who sat there most. Grandpa's dent is the deepest. Nobody else sits in Grandpa's dent. Somewhere inside it are 40 years of coins (see question 390), a remote from a TV that no longer exists and a fossilized Cheerio.

462. Can a fitted sheet actually be folded, or is that a myth?

Some people claim they can. We've never seen proof. Most people roll it into a ball and hope for the best. Online videos show experts folding fitted sheets into perfect squares, tucking corners into corners like origami wizards. When regular people try, the sheet fights back like an angry octopus, wrapping around their arms and head. Fitted sheets are the most rebellious item in the laundry. They swallow socks (see question 451), pop off the mattress at night and refuse to be organized. The ball method is fine. The linen closet doesn't judge. The linen closet has given up too.

463. Why does the smoke alarm only chirp at 3 a.m.?

As the house cools at night, a weak battery's voltage dips and trips the chirp. It's science, and it's still rude. The chirp is one short, high beep every 40 seconds, just long enough apart that you fall back asleep before the next one. You'll lie in the dark trying to figure out which room it's coming from. Sound bounces in a quiet house, so it seems to come from everywhere at once. You'll end up standing on a chair in pyjamas at 3:15 a.m., holding a broom, poking the wrong alarm. Change your batteries every year. Your sanity depends on it.

464. If I flick the light switch faster, do I save more

electricity?

No. The light is either on or off. It doesn't care about your enthusiasm. Flicking a light switch faster doesn't make the light more efficient; it just makes the room look like a disco. If you flick it really fast, your family will think the house is haunted or that you're sending Morse code to the neighbours. The best way to save electricity is to turn lights off when you leave a room, which is the single sentence every parent has said a thousand times. Turning it off fast is nice. Turning it off at all is better.

465. Why is the remote always in the last place I look?

Because once you find it, you stop looking. Logic is undefeated. If you kept looking after finding it, you'd be very strange. Still, remotes have a gift for hiding. Their favourite spots are between the couch cushions, under the dog, inside the fridge (see question 467) and in your own hand while you look for it. Studies suggest people lose many hours a year searching for remotes. Some families have tied the remote to the coffee table with a string, like a bank pen (see question 394). It works, but now the remote is also sad.

466. Can I hire someone to tell me where I left my keys?

That person is called past you, and they never pay attention. Past you walked in the door, distracted, holding groceries and a phone, and put the keys in the freezer next to the peas. Past you has no memory of this. Past you is unreliable. Some people hang a key hook by the door, which is a promise to put the keys there every time. It works for about a week. There are also little trackers you can attach to your keys that beep when you call them, which turns the search into a game of Marco Polo. The keys will still be in the freezer.

467. Is a fridge a cold cupboard or a warm freezer?

A cold cupboard with a light that only works when it knows you're watching (see question 468). The fridge is the most-visited room in the house, even though it's not a room. People open it, stare inside for 30 seconds, close it and open it again a minute later, hoping something new has appeared. Nothing new has appeared. The back of the fridge is a mysterious land where leftovers go to become science experiments. Every household has one jar of mustard from 2016 that nobody throws out. The jar is the fridge's elder.

468. Does the fridge light stay on when the door is closed?

The switch says no, and nobody needs to climb in to check. Please trust the switch. There's a small button by the door hinge that gets pressed when the door closes, turning the light off. You can press it with your finger and watch the light go off, which is enough proof for anyone. Climbing inside is dangerous and also impossible, because the fridge is full of yogurt. Some people have filmed the inside of a closed fridge with a phone. The footage is dark, cold and boring. The light was off. The yogurt was fine. Case closed.

469. Why is there always one light switch that does nothing?

It's connected to another dimension, or to an attic light you've never noticed. Flip it at your own risk. Sometimes it powers a plug behind the couch. Sometimes it powers the outdoor light of the house next door. Sometimes it powers nothing at all because a previous owner removed whatever it was attached to in 1983. Everyone has flipped this switch dozens of times, waiting for something to happen. Nothing happens. Or does it? Somewhere, in a parallel universe, a lamp turns on and a version of you wonders why. You're keeping each other company.

470. Can I iron a shirt while I'm wearing it?

Only if you want to learn some new words. Take it off first. An iron gets hot enough to make your shirt crisp and your skin very unhappy. People in a rush have tried ironing just the collar while wearing the shirt, and every single one of them now has a story that begins with "so I was late for work." If you're short on time, hang the shirt in the bathroom while you shower: the steam will smooth out some wrinkles. Or wear a sweater over it. Sweaters were invented to hide wrinkled shirts. That's not true, but it should be.

471. Why does the floor creak when I sneak to the kitchen at night?

Floors are snitches. Every creak is a report to the household. Wooden floors creak because boards rub against each other and against nails when weight shifts. At night, you'll know which board creaks and step over it, only to land on a new board that creaks even louder. Some Japanese palaces were built with "nightingale floors" that chirp like birds whenever anyone walks on them, so no ninja could sneak in. Your hallway is a cheap version of that. You are not a ninja. You are a person sneaking to the fridge for cheese. The floor knows. The floor tells everyone.

472. Is a doormat for doors or for feet?

It's for feet, named after the door. It's the welcome committee that gets walked on all day. Doormats say things like "Welcome," "Home Sweet Home" and, for the honest, "Go Away." They take mud, snow, slush and the occasional crushed leaf without complaint. In Canada, the doormat is a full-time job from November to April. Every guest stomps on it like they're trying to start a lawnmower. Some doormats have spare keys hidden underneath, which every burglar in history knows about. Don't do that. The doormat has enough responsibilities.

473. Can I call my laundry pile a mountain and climb it?

Most people already have one. It's called "the chair." Every bedroom has a chair that has not been sat on in years. It's covered in clothes that are too clean for the hamper but too worn for the drawer, a category scientists call "semi-clean." The pile grows over weeks until it reaches the summit, at which point a single sweater on top could cause an avalanche. Climbing it is not recommended. The base layer contains clothes from last season. Expeditions have found a lost mitten, a hoodie you thought was stolen and a sock from Lintland on vacation.

474. Why do we have a guest room that guests never use?

It's a museum of things we don't need. The guests are just an excuse. The guest room contains: an exercise bike used as a coat rack, three boxes labelled "misc," a framed picture leaning against the wall since you moved in, wrapping paper from 2019 and a bed covered in decorative pillows that nobody is allowed to touch. When guests do finally visit, everyone panics and spends a whole day shoving the museum into the closet. The guests sleep fine, then leave, and the museum comes back out the next morning. It missed its room.

475. Is there a polite way to tell a houseguest to leave?

Start packing their bag for them, gently, with a smile. Or see question 144 for the vacuum method. Other polite options include yawning loudly, putting on your pyjamas at 8 p.m., turning off lights one by one, and saying "well!" while slapping your knees and standing up. Canadians have a special technique: walking the guest to the door while still talking for 45 minutes, a ritual known as "the long goodbye." It can take place in the hallway, the porch and finally the driveway, with the car running. Nobody leaves quickly. Nobody wants to be rude.

476. If my house is a mess, is it a creative environment?

That's what creative people say. It's also what messy people say. They're often the same people. Some studies have suggested that messy desks may encourage new ideas, while tidy desks encourage healthy eating and following rules. Messy people have printed these studies and stuck them to their fridges, where they're now buried under takeout menus. The truth is that a creative mess has a system: "I know exactly where everything is." An uncreative mess is just a mess. If you can't find your shoes, your house isn't a studio. It's a shoe-hiding facility.

477. Why does one sock always fall out of the laundry

basket?

It's trying to escape before the dryer gets it. See question 451. Every trip from the bedroom to the laundry room, one sock jumps from the basket like a soldier leaping from a plane, landing in the hallway, on the stairs or behind a door. You'll walk past it several times without noticing. Days later it'll turn up somewhere strange, like the kitchen, wondering how it got there. Experienced laundry carriers walk slowly, hug the basket tightly and do a final sock-count at the machine. The sock still escapes. It always escapes. It has a plan.

478. Can I plant a light bulb and grow a lamp?

You'll grow nothing but a strange look from your neighbours. Light bulbs are not seeds, no matter how much they look like weird glass tulip bulbs. You'll water the spot every day, maybe add fertilizer, maybe even talk to it (see question 480). Nothing will sprout, and a bird will try to peck the bulb, which is dangerous for everyone. If you want a lamp from the garden, plant sunflowers. They follow the sun around the sky, they're tall and they glow yellow. They're basically nature's lamps, and they come with free seeds for snacking.

479. Why is the bathroom always the coldest room in the

house?

So you're wide awake for your shower. Then it turns into a sauna, the bathroom's other personality. Bathrooms are often on outside walls, have tile floors that feel like ice and come with a small window that never seals properly. Stepping out of a hot shower onto cold tile in January is a uniquely Canadian scream. Then the mirror fogs up so badly you can't see your own face, and you have to wipe a little circle with your hand like a submarine porthole. Heated bathroom floors exist. People who have them never stop talking about them.

480. Is it normal to talk to my appliances?

Totally. Lots of people thank their microwave. The microwave appreciates it. Others yell at the printer, encourage the car on cold mornings ("come on, buddy, you can do it") and apologize to the vacuum when they bump it into a wall. Some smart speakers can even talk back now, which has made these conversations much stranger. If your toaster ever answers you on its own, call an electrician and possibly a priest. Studies show people often give their cars, robot vacuums and plants names. The most popular robot vacuum names are things like Roomba Rumba, Sir Sucks-a-Lot and Kevin.

481. Why does the blender sound so angry?

It's doing hard work at high speed and it wants you to know. A blender's blades spin thousands of times a minute, chopping ice and frozen fruit with the fury of a small tornado. The noise wakes up the whole house, frightens the dog and makes conversation impossible. The blender doesn't do quiet. It does loud, then louder, then a strange grinding noise when a strawberry gets stuck and it has to be shaken. Some blenders come with a "pulse" button, which lets the blender yell in short bursts. It's more polite, like a dog barking only once.

482. Can I build a blanket fort as an adult?

Yes, and you should. If anyone asks, it's a home office. Adults have bigger couches, more blankets and the authority to use the good chairs, so their forts are actually much better than children's forts. Add a string of fairy lights, a laptop and a bowl of popcorn, and you've created the coziest workspace in the world. Some adults hold entire video meetings from inside blanket forts. Nobody notices, as long as the camera's angled right. Your fort will collapse at least once. That's part of the experience. Rebuild. Every great city fell at least once.

483. Why is the vacuum cord always one metre too short?

So you unplug and replug at least four times per room. It builds character. Vacuum cords are designed by the same people who design parking lots (see question 440). You'll reach the far corner of the living room, and the cord will snap tight, yanking the plug out of the wall with a dramatic pop. You'll then try to stretch the vacuum like a dog on a leash, which works for about half a metre before the plug flies across the room. Cordless vacuums solve this, but their batteries die halfway through the living room. Vacuums are sneaky. They always win.

484. If I put a houseplant in every room, is my house a

forest?

It's an indoor jungle. Beware of overwatering, also known as a flood. Houseplants clean the air a little, cheer you up a lot and judge you constantly for forgetting to water them. Some people own over 200 houseplants and spend their weekends moving them from window to window to follow the sun, like the most dedicated tour guides in the world. Your jungle will eventually develop a food chain: fungus gnats, a spider who eats the gnats and a cat who eats the plants. The cat sits at the top. As always (see question 300).

485. Why do keys go missing right when I'm late?

Keys can sense urgency. They hide in the pocket you checked three times. When you're relaxed, your keys are right on the hook (see question 466). When you're running ten minutes late, they're in yesterday's jacket, under a pile of mail, inside a grocery bag or, somehow, in the lock of the front door, where you left them last night. Some people believe keys go on short holidays to Lintland with the socks (see question 451). The best strategy is to attach your keys to something huge, like a canoe paddle. You'll never lose them. You'll just have trouble getting into your car.

486. Is a ceiling fan a slow helicopter that gave up?

It's a helicopter that decided home life suited it better. It used to dream of flying over mountains. Now it spins gently over the dining table, keeping everyone cool and occasionally wobbling in a way that makes guests nervous. A ceiling fan's blades gather a thick layer of dust on top that nobody can see from below. When you finally clean them, it's like discovering an ancient snowfield. Fans also have a winter setting that spins the other way to push warm air down, which almost nobody uses because nobody knows where the switch is.

487. Can I fix a leaky faucet by asking nicely?

Faucets don't listen. Bring a wrench, and possibly a plumber. A leaky faucet drips about once per second, which doesn't sound like much until you learn it can waste thousands of litres of water a year. At night, the drip sounds like a clock counting down to your doom. You'll lie in bed going "drip... drip... drip..." and then get up to put a towel in the sink to muffle it. Asking nicely won't work. Begging won't work. Threatening it will get you funny looks from your family. A tiny rubber washer, usually costing less than a dollar, is often the hero.

488. Why does a hot shower feel like a hug?

It's a hug from the water heater, the only hug that runs out after 10 minutes. Warm water relaxes your muscles and calms your mind, which is why so many people have their best ideas in the shower. Unfortunately, there's never a pen in there. You'll come up with a brilliant invention, then forget it by the time you've found a towel. The shower hug ends suddenly when someone flushes a toilet elsewhere in the house, and the water goes ice-cold or scalding hot. That person will hear about it. Loudly. Through the door.

489. Are dust bunnies related to real bunnies?

Distant cousins. Dust bunnies multiply faster and are much easier to catch. They live under beds, behind fridges and in the corners of rooms nobody vacuums. They're made of hair, lint, dust (see question 457) and the occasional lost earring. A real bunny eats carrots and hops. A dust bunny eats nothing and drifts gently across the floor when you open a door, like a tumbleweed in a tiny western. If you leave them long enough, dust bunnies can grow into dust rabbits and finally dust hares. Nobody has ever seen a dust hare and lived. Vacuum regularly.

490. Why does every home have a mystery key?

It opens something important you threw out years ago. Keep it anyway. It's tradition. Mystery keys live in junk drawers (see question 453), key rings and little bowls by the door. You'll try them on every lock in the house, the shed, the car and your old bike lock. None of them will fit. You'll keep them anyway, because the moment you throw one out, you'll find the box it opens. Some families have mystery keys passed down for generations. Grandma had a mystery key. Great-grandma had the same mystery key. Nobody knows. The key knows.

491. Can I install a slide instead of stairs?

You can, and it'll be the best day of your life, right up until you need to go back up. Some people really have installed slides in their homes, usually alongside stairs, because humans still need a way to carry laundry up. Coming down for breakfast by slide is a joyful experience. Going up the slide in socks is a hopeless one. You'll slip back down three times, holding your coffee, while your family watches. Install a slide and a rope ladder, and your home becomes a playground. Install a fire pole, and you become a firefighter. Ask your insurance company first.

492. Why is my bed comfiest exactly when I have to get up?

Beds are moody. They're only perfect when you have somewhere to be. At 11 p.m., your bed is lumpy, too warm, and your pillow is the wrong shape. You toss and turn for hours. At 6:45 a.m., when the alarm goes off, the bed transforms into the most perfect cloud in the world, and every part of you wants to stay. Sleep scientists say this is partly because your body is deep in sleep in the early morning. We think the bed is just clingy. It doesn't want you to leave. It'll be lonely all day. Make it nice for when you get back (see question 452).

493. Is a recliner a chair or a bed with dreams?

A bed with dreams, and those dreams come true every Sunday afternoon. The recliner is where grandparents watch golf, fall asleep 12 minutes later and wake up insisting they "were just resting their eyes." It has a lever on the side that launches the footrest out with a loud clunk, like a spring-loaded trap. Some recliners have cup holders, massage settings and even little fridges built in. At that point, it's no longer furniture. It's a vehicle. Do not try to take it on the highway. It handles terribly and has no seatbelt (see question 448).

494. Can I put my dishes in the shower to save time?

Technically yes, practically gross. Your shampoo would smell like spaghetti sauce. You'd step into the shower and land on a fork. Your feet would be clean, but the bottom of the tub would be covered in pasta. A few university students have tried this, and their roommates have filed complaints with the housing office. Dishwashers exist for a reason (see question 455). If you must multitask, try brushing your teeth in the shower instead. That's efficient, socially acceptable and doesn't involve any lasagna.

495. Why do the curtains keep closing when I want sunlight?

They don't close themselves. That was your cat. Cats love sunlight, but they also love sleeping behind curtains, which pulls them shut. A cat behind a curtain looks like a lumpy ghost, and if you call its name, the lump will move slightly but never come out. Some cats climb curtains like mountain climbers, leaving tiny holes all the way to the top, then sit on the curtain rod looking surprised that they can't get down. You'll need a ladder. The cat will act like this was your idea. It wasn't. It's never your idea.

496. If I move, will my house miss me?

Houses are friendly and adjust quickly. It'll only remember you by the grape juice stain. And the height marks on the doorframe, the nail holes where your posters were and the dent in the wall from the time you were "just practising" hockey. The new owners will find a marble in the heating vent and wonder about you. Some people leave notes for the next family, hidden in the walls or under floorboards. Decades later, someone renovating finds a letter from 1962 that says "hi, the basement floods sometimes." That's how houses keep their memories.

497. Why does every family have a fancy plate set nobody

uses?

They're saved for a special occasion that never comes. The plates are waiting. The plates are patient. They live in a glass cabinet, behind the good glasses, next to a gravy boat shaped like a swan. Every Christmas, someone suggests using them, and someone else says "we'll just use the regular ones, the good ones are too nice." The plates have been in the family for three generations and have never touched food. They are the most well-rested dishes in the world. Use them. Life is short. A Tuesday spaghetti night is special enough.

498. Does my house get cleaner if I close my eyes?

It looks cleaner, right up until you step on a toy building brick. That pain is the house's way of saying "open your eyes." Stepping on a plastic brick is one of the most painful household experiences known to science, ranking just above stubbing your toe and just below the shower going cold (see question 488). Closing your eyes is a popular cleaning method among teenagers, who also use "stuffing things in the closet" and "waiting for someone else to do it." None of these methods work. The brick is waiting. The brick is always waiting.

499. Why is the TV remote sticky?

Snacks. Many snacks. Nobody wants to talk about it. Studies have found that TV remotes can be among the dirtiest objects in a home. Between the buttons live crumbs from chips, cheese dust, popcorn butter and a mysterious sticky substance thought to be juice from 2018. The most-pressed buttons, like volume and power, are the stickiest. Some hotels now put remotes in plastic bags. Clean your remote with a wipe once in a while. Then watch as someone eats nachos while holding it, and accept that the remote's fate is sealed.

500. Is home where the heart is, or where the Wi-Fi connects automatically?

Both. Home is where your heart is and your phone joins the network without asking. That's true love. Home is also where your toothbrush lives, where your fridge knows you (see question 467) and where you know exactly which floorboard creaks (see question 471). Visiting a friend's house means asking for their Wi-Fi password, which is always something like "TheyCallMeSteve_1987!!" written on the fridge. Home is where you never have to ask. It's where you can walk in the dark without bumping into anything. Mostly. There's still that brick (see question 498).