Rules work best in threes

Dear future hubster,
the rules for being my flatmate are quite simple:
1. Coffee in the morning comes before everything and everyone else.
2. Accept it as a fact that I don't have too many shoes.
3. Only put the bottle of alcohol back in the fridge if it still has a visible amount left in it. Otherwise just empty it and get me a new one.

Not perky. Obnoxious.

Dear future hubster, 

when you finally decide to show up, and I convince myself to settle down for a while (don't even ask me to settle down forever, that's way too unnerving, let's just start with a few years at the time), and we can finally have a fully equipped kitchen, please be prepared to have plates that insult you and your guests, weird Danish pinboards and unicorn-shaped cushions, and potentially mugs that promote Trudeau 2020.

I come with an eclectic style, yes. 

Seven smooth socks

Dear future hubster,

Shari showed me an advent calendar of socks. Now considering my widely known soft spot for cool socks (and great hair), it goes without saying that I totally want to get you one. 

Minor issue is that I don't know your shoe (sock) size, and I'd prefer to avoid a one-size-doesn't-always-fit-all fiasco. Therefore, you are hereby kindly requested to identify yourself, or at least the size of your feet. Preferably in European measurements, but I understand weird American sizes too, if necessary.