The Case of the Random-But-Not-Random T-Shirt Holes

For a period of time, I found myself dealing with one of life’s most ridiculous unsolved mysteries: small holes appearing in my cotton t-shirts in what looked like a completely random pattern just below the navel. Not on the shoulders, not on the sleeves—no, always in that oddly specific lower-center zone, like my shirts were quietly going through something I wasn’t invited to understand. And to make it even stranger—it was only my shirts. Not my husbands’. Not my daughters’. Not other fabrics. Just my cotton t-shirts, apparently chosen for a very exclusive and inconvenient experience. Naturally, I explored everything from laundry sabotage to environmental factors… and yes, even pulled out my dowsing tools to see what my higher self had to say.  I was not surprised to come up with the notion of ‘entities’. I was never able to successfully clear them, and they ended up ruining every cotton t-shirt I owned.

Then came the twist. I moved. And then moved again. And again—because if you’ve lived in the Inland Empire, you already know that relocation is basically a lifestyle. Through all of that—different homes, different setups, different daily routines—the holes never came back. Not once. Meanwhile, I’ve had plenty of other auspicious events occur—those “something is definitely happening here” moments—but the t-shirt phenomenon? Completely gone. Out of curiosity (and full commitment at this point), I dowsed then and I’ve dowsed now… same answer both times: entities. Which is either the most consistent data point I’ve ever received—or the most dedicated inside joke the universe has been running at my expense.

So here we are. The holes were never truly random—they just looked random. Same general area, same strange consistency, targeting only my cotton shirts like I was enrolled in some kind of invisible textile experiment. And now? Nothing. Which leaves me with two options: I either eliminated the actual entity, or I successfully moved out of a very niche “entity-interference zone” with a highly specific preference for cotton fibers below the navel.  Regardless of how this situation was remedied, I am grateful to seemingly have left behind this mysterious wardrobe malfunction.