When we got home from our birthday casino trip on Tuesday, The Pony went into the Mansion ahead of us. I'm just slow, and Farmer H was parking A-Cad after letting me out behind the garage. Heh, heh, all those years I told him the garage was too small and he didn't believe me! Nobody can open a passenger door when A-Cad is parked inside, because the wall is too close.
Anyhoo... The Pony had to get his birthday card, and the Valentine's candy that Farmer H had gotten for him. He also wanted the key code off my TurboTax, so he could file his taxes. And to make a quick bathroom visit before driving home.
I came in the kitchen door and saw The Pony coming across the kitchen by the cutting block. He had a funny look on his face. Kind of sheepish. Then I saw him put a knife on the counter beside the sink. I thought it was the butter knife I keep on the cutting block to jab at wayward ice cubes in FRIG II's freezer.
"What's going on with my knife?"
"Umm... nothing?"
"What do you mean?"
"Okay. I found it in my room."
"What?"
"I went in my bedroom to get something. I was looking for my tweezers. And I saw this knife."
SWEET GUMMI MARY! That butter knife has been in The Pony's room since he moved out last May. Probably before that! And I hadn't even noticed. We don't go in The Pony's room. I don't count my butter knives. Now if it had been a FORK, I would have known one was missing.
Let the record show that there was still some butter clinging to that knife, along with some toast crumbs.
4 comments:
Still some butter clinging? I'm surprised there weren't any ants as well. I guess butter isn't sweet enough for them.
River,
We rarely get ants in the Mansion. Maybe once every 3-4 years. They march across the threshold of the kitchen door, and up the counter to mill around beside the sink, where the rinsed dishes sit, awaiting hand-washing. A good spray of RAID along the trail gets rid of them.
So, the Pony buttered his toast in his room and forgot to pick the knife up after it fell? I used to have rooms I never went into, but that is not the case now! I distinctly remember my spoons disappearing while my Dad was sick and I was keeping the roads between Missouri and Geoargia in good use. When questiones, HeWho denied any knowledge of the whereabouts. Upon a more intensive interroagtion, he finally admitted he "may have" accidentally thrown them away in empty cartons of ice cream. Accidentally, indeed!
Kathy,
That is unacceptable! I tracked down my thrown-away fork back when The Veteran hosted an anniversary party for us at our own Mansion. I am still mad at that entitled little wench who came as a guest of The Veteran's teenage stepdaughter, and demanded a REGULAR fork rather than the plastic everybody else used, and then tossed it in a black trash bag with her plate. I dug through TWO bags of trash to find it. Near the bottom, too!
I have no idea where in his room The Pony found that knife. He didn't bring a plate to the kitchen...
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