As observed by Detective Inspector Stevens (Ret.), self-appointed timekeeper of the Lost Sock Investigation Unit.
Dear Diary,
Our weekly meetings at the Lost Sock Investigation Unit had been getting rather out of hand lately. Last Thursday, George (formerly of the Scotland Yard Forensics Unit) spent two hours examining dryer lint under his portable microscope, convinced he’d found traces of his missing 1986 Christmas sock—the one with reindeer that actually lit up.
That’s when my daughter Sarah (who worries entirely too much about how I spend my retirement) gifted me this curious device—the Time Timer Original 3″. “To keep your sock investigations on schedule, Dad,” she said, trying not to smile. As if missing socks were a laughing matter.
It’s quite clever actually—no bigger than an evidence bag, with a red disk that disappears like those socks we’re trying to locate. No ticking either, which is essential during our silent observation periods at the laundrette. (We’ve found that socks, like suspects, tend to reveal themselves when they think no one’s watching.)
The protective cover doubles as a stand—perfect positioning for monitoring our “hot spots” (primarily the space behind tumble dryers). It comes with a little cloth bag too, though Inspector Matthews keeps insisting we should be storing it in a proper evidence bag. Old habits die hard.
You can write activities on these little cards that slot in the top. “Lint Analysis,” “Tumble Pattern Reconstruction,” “Witness Interviews” (mainly with frustrated spouse victims of sock disappearance). Last week, someone wrote “Cold Case: The Missing Cashmere of ’92″—we all remember that one, particularly painful.
The only downside is it needs an AA battery, which isn’t included. Rather like turning up at a crime scene without a notebook—thoroughly unprofessional. Even the tracking device we once planted in a suspicious washing machine came with batteries.
Would I recommend it? Well, our investigations have certainly become more efficient. Although retired Detective Sergeant Wilson still takes 45 minutes to present his “Sock Migration Theory,” involving something about dryer vortexes and parallel dimensions, at least now we know exactly how long we’ve been listening. The red disk is rather hypnotic too—rather like watching surveillance footage, but without the excitement of catching someone wearing mismatched socks.
Must skedaddle now—we’ve just received an urgent call about a potential mass disappearance from a local boarding school’s laundry room. Two hundred and thirty-seven socks, all identical, all left ones. This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.
Yours faithfully,
Detective Inspector Stevens (Ret.)
P.S. It comes with a one-year guarantee, which in our line of work is essential. You never know when a timer might need to withstand high-humidity conditions in the steam room of a suspicious laundrette.