Jackie Wells-Fauth
I’m the first one to admit that my household is a little disorganized. I have often thought it would be better if I hired someone to clean and organize it regularly, but I’m afraid a professional would take one look at the blankets and throws all over the living room and yarn scraps from sewing projects throughout the house and run screaming into the night.
And so, I go on, year after year, wallowing in my disorganization and losing things right and left because of it. Or at least, that’s what I always believed. I figured that some higher power just liked messing with my mind, and rearranged things throughout the house. That explains the loss of things like scissors and ink pens.
I have a project that needs gold-colored yarn and I cannot find any in the house. So, I buy some and then, of course, the higher power places the missing yarn someplace quite ordinary, like the plate cupboard, or the freezer.
I have tolerated this circumstance because everyone assures me they have the same problems. Needles go missing, socks constantly lose their mates and finding a hairbrush is frequently so difficult, I have learned to comb my hair with my fingers and I have convinced myself that it looks just as good!
Everything was fine until the knives. Now, I have lost many pairs of scissors. It seems when I need a pair of scissors, there is never any around. I end up using a small knife or just as often my teeth. I can accept that scissors pack up and move out of the house, but now my knives have gotten into the act.
I bought a couple of knives a while ago that were really quite expensive because I was tired of the knives that cut so poorly I could chew it better and more smoothly. Those two knives were great and I used them for everything. Then, one by one, they silently disappeared into the night. Frustrated by bread that got mashed and meat that wouldn’t slice, I got a couple more knives, not so expensive, but at least temporarily sharp. They, too, disappeared into knife oblivion.
All the dull knives have remained and they are only good for causing cuts on my fingers as I sort through the drawer, looking for knives which can do anything besides cut me! I was debating about whether I should be shopping once again, for knives that can do kitchen work, when I happened to overhear a program on television that made me stop and think.
It was while I was in the living room, digging carefully through the furniture looking for both my scissors and my missing needles, that I overheard a man describing his experience with what he termed to be ghosts.
“My knives slowly started disappearing. No one seemed to know where they went,” he drawled. He had my attention.
“Before I knew it, all the sharp knives in the house and some scissors and a bunch of large needles had mysteriously vanished. I looked everywhere, I asked every one and no one could answer the question of where they went.”
By now, I was sitting in a chair, hanging on his every word. What happened? “Did you ever solve the mystery?” the interviewer asked.
“One night, I woke up in the middle of the night and I was pinned to the bed with my sheet, which had every sharp utensil that had disappeared in the last year holding the sheet to the bed all around me. Those ghosts were sending me a message and I left that house quickly.”
What? Ghosts were collecting all the sharp objects? Did that mean I was going wake up some night looking like the knife act in a circus show? I told my husband the whole story.
“Well, it seems more likely to me that he should check out his wife,” was his reply. “Besides, I have problems of my own. I can’t find my hatchet anywhere.”
Okay, that’s it. I’m packing up and moving out until that ax reappears…someplace other than in my bed!
dropsinthewell 