That Troubles Me

I am amazed and troubled by how far a dropped object can travel.  Drop a multivitamin in the bathroom.  It has to be within a three-foot drop zone.  After ten minutes on hands and knees, despite a flashlight and magnifying glass I give up.  Karen worries.  Her dog, Jamie, can sniff out a flea in a coal bin.  For Jamie a half-inch capsule is a dog biscuit.  For me it’s not a problem.  Dogs needs vitamins.  Karen finds the pill under a sock on the bedroom floor.  That troubles me.

Finding is a women’s thing.  Finding and gathering is in their genes.  They’re born to it.  Men are hunters not finders.  It’s said some men can’t find milk in a refrigerator.

Drop an aspirin in the kitchen?  Don’t waste time on the obvious places.  Look in the family room under the coffee table.  Never mind the door between is closed.  That troubles me.

When America’s military needed chocolate that “melts in your mouth not in your hand” Mars Incorporated came up with M&Ms.  Loose a red M&M on the living room carpet.  After crawling, moving furniture, and lifting the couch you give up.  A week later your wife finds a red M&M in the upstairs bathroom behind the toilet.  That troubles me.

There are more brown M&Ms.  I wonder about that.  Are reds, blues, yellows, and greens smarter?  Can they move faster and farther?  Are browns less clever or agile?  If dropped, a brown M&M may not make it out of the room.  Installing the 48 inch flat screen TV a year later, you find a brown M&M by the baseboard behind the entertainment center.  That troubles me.

Invented not only not to melt but to last M&Ms have an extended “shelf life.”  I have no problem dusting off and eating a year-old brown, or any color, M&M.

When a bridesmaid lost a diamond earring, wedding guests crawled around the altar, moved flower arrangements, checked seats two rows back, and came up empty.  Feeling responsible, at $100 an hour the father of the bride hired a private detective.  After meticulous investigation around and a hundred feet from the nuptials site and querying the wedding party, the Super Sleuth could not crack the case.  A month later, taking the erstwhile flower girl’s wedding frock from a closet her mother heard a “click” on the floor, the truant jewel!  Wedding videos revealed that at no time were the bridesmaid and flower girl closer than ten feet apart.  That troubles me.

Regarding spirits, ghosts, channeling, telepathy, UFOs, and Sasquatch, all that “paranormal” nonsense, I’m a skeptic.  Still, when I drop a peanut on the living room rug, then tip up my recliner and crawl around and Karen finds it at base of the refrigerator I wonder.  That troubles me.

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