A story for you:
About a month ago I lost my scissors. And in case you're wondering, that is not a euphemism in the way that I lost my marbles is. Not that I have all my marbles. I most assuredly do not. That's what allows me to work with the children.
But my point is (ha ha! point! scissors! ha!)...wait, how do you guys get me off topic so fast? MY POINT IS that I literally lost my scissors. It was weird, because I knew exactly where I had used them last, and it is not a long walk from my sofa to the drawer where my scissors live. It's not like I could have meandered off trail on my way to put them back, or even laid them down in a place where I couldn't easily find them. But when it was time to scissor again, they were not there. Dammit.
So I spent two weeks just waiting for them to show up again. It was a long two weeks; you'd be surprised how often you need a pair of scissors. Some people have backup scissors, but I myself like to live on the edge (ha ha! edge! point! scissors! oh, the witticisms!). When the scissors didn't appear again, I sucked it up and bought myself a new pair. I even popped for the $1.99 ones. And since then I've been quite pleased with my forward-thinking implement replacement program and have had all my cutting needs met.
Which should be the end of things, but you guys know where this is going, right? Yes, yes, yes, the mysterious lost scissors have mysteriously reappeared! You'll never guess where they were. Never. Please, stop begging me, for heaven's sakes, I'll tell you! In. The. Knife. Drawer. This is the same knife drawer that I'm into once or twice a day because it also contains my wine bottle opener and the plastic lids for the cat food. And those scissors weren't crammed in the back somewhere, underneath something big that obliterated my view. Nope, they were just a'sittin' right there. Right there. Looking at me, for the past month, in that way that scissors have.
The bastards.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take my doggone scissors and start looking for those missing marbles.
7 comments:
Just don't run with them.
I loves me a good story about mysterious household happenings. I prefer to think that it might be poltergeists, sneekily messin' wit cher head...A.Fanny could address that-she Knows.
Moi: You libertarians, with your *rules.*
DR: It's entirely possible that the poltergeists are in my head. Living there. Directing me to hide things from myself when I'm not looking.
tribob and andy could have helped you locate them..."i don't know, i didn't take them!"
them...it?
DR is correct. I DO know about poltergiests. And Wicked I can say definitively that this is simply a case of peri-menopausal DEMENTIA! I know, because spousal unit and I spent a whole day recently trying to find his keys on an acre of land where he had been working. We finally gave up, and I later realized I had put them in my suitcase. THAT'S how I know it's dementia. She needs to get herself a copy of the "The Knitters' Cognitive Gym" post haste!
Hey! I found my scissors!
...so your going to modernize the old game of rock-paper-scissors and we will now play "blog-scissors-marbles"?
(i think the wine bottle opener had something to do with the lost scissors)
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