When I was young I read every Nancy Drew book ever written. There was always one thing you could count on: by the end of the story Nancy would solve the mystery. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way in the real world.
One of the greatest unsolved mysteries at my house is The Case of the Missing Socks. If the washing machine isn’t eating them, then just where do they go? I have several large garbage bags of lonely socks that are missing their mates. What do you do with that many spare socks? I’ve used some for dust rags, but even my house doesn’t have enough dust for thousands of socks. I suppose I could make hand puppets if I were crafty, but I’m not.
I tried convincing my boys to just go ahead and wear them even if they didn’t match. “What difference does it make if they are exactly alike? No one is going to pull up your jeans and check to see if your socks match!” I said, but they ignored me.
I guess there could be a sock checker out there somewhere. My mother always warned me about the dangers of wearing underwear with holes in it. “What if you have a wreck and go to the hospital?” she’d say. As if the first thing they do after they wheel you in is check your underwear. Who knows, maybe they check your socks too.
Here’s another mystery I can’t solve. Why is it that almost every time I cook (which doesn’t happen often) the kids or my husband will invariably look at what I’ve prepared and go, “Guess what I had for lunch today?” Now I ask you, what are the odds that I would cook the same meal on the same day as the school cafeteria or, in Bill’s case, the hospital cafeteria? Probably about the same as me winning the lottery.
And finally, why is it that every time I go to the bathroom the phone rings? Is there a hidden camera somewhere that relays the message, “Okay, she’s going in the john, you can call now”?
I can think of several more unsolved household mysteries but I’m sure you have a few of your own. If you do, don’t ask me to help solve them. Call Nancy Drew. She always has the answers.