There is a strange and worrisome phenomenon that occurs in my home. I think it may involve black magic. I speak of the dark art of witches, warlocks, and voodoo practitioners…not the teeny bopper song by Little Mix. It involves sleight of hand, chicanery, illusion, and the Vulcan mind-meld all rolled into one. Here is a common scenario:
Me: We are out of (any food item that could be found in the fridge, pantry, or kitchen cupboard)
Her: I just bought some at the store. It’s on the second shelf.
Me: I am currently looking at the second shelf for the third time and there is no (item.)
Her: (Exasperated sigh with exaggerated eye roll…marches to my location and withdraws the item from the second shelf without breaking eye contact.)
Me: It must have been behind the pickles.
I swear to you that whatever I was looking for was not there prior to her conjuring it out of the galactic ether. I searched very carefully to avoid the whole sighing and eye-rolling scenario I just described. My vision is very good; I am not helpless nor mentally deficient. Thus, I came to the obvious conclusion that she is practicing dirty witchcraftery, or she has created pickles with cloaking capabilities. Either way, I’m seriously freaked out.
Things often go missing in our home, but only my things…and usually when I am in a hurry. She will often watch me from a doorway as I search the couch cushions and under the bed for my shoes or car keys. When she sees that I have reached the highest level of anxiety and irritation, she will calmly point at my shoes and/or car keys where they are sitting practically right in front of my face. Some kind of hypnosis or crazy mind trickery…right?
Her powers work long-distance too. Recently, she was out of town. That means I got to wear the pants for a while. It was very liberating, but I didn’t let it go to my head…that’s a lie it went straight to my head. I bullied our kids and made them do chores like wax the couch and dust the carpet. They sighed and rolled their eyes and wanted to know when mom was coming home. I did have to call her about dinner one night though. It went like this:
Me: What sauce do you use when you make that one dish, you know…the one with hotdogs, gummy bears, and Doritos?
Her: That’s not a real thing.
Me: Ok. How about I make Vichyssoise?
Her: (I hear a long sigh and the creak of her eyes rolling) You don’t know what that is. Stick with spaghetti.
Me: We don’t have any hamburger. I just made a comprehensive search of all pertinent locations on our property.
Her: Look on the second shelf of the refrigerator right now.
Me: WOW! Here it is! It must have been behind the pickles.