The Mystery of the Missing Shorts -as Old Age Strikes another blow.
When strange things start to happen to the mind and memory
The Mystery of the Missing Shorts
These were not just any shorts, these were my favourite shorts. They may not have been much to look at, but their loss was deeply felt. A pair of cotton shorts with a check pattern that matched nothing; in fact they clashed with any shirt I owned, but still I liked them because they fitted well and felt good. Then there was the soft blue pair that also felt so good and went with just about any of my selection of shirts.
The problem was they had disappeared. I vaguely remembered folding then neatly and putting them away but now I could not find them anywhere. So I did the logical thing and called in the champion finder in the house, Audrey. She is like a master sleuth and goes about her quest with a determination and skill that always amazes me. Normally she would ask, “Have you looked in the draws in the bedroom and study?” She starts to eliminate the obvious. “What about the dirty washing, washing machine, the fridge?” She begins her determined bloodhound search into even the most unlikely places, until with a triumphant smile and wave she will hold up the missing object.
But this time even Sherlock Homes was flummoxed! Now my imagination began to take over. Has someone come into the house and removed my shorts? Did some desperate thief fish them out through a window left open just an inch? Is there a poltergeist in the house that eats shorts? My imagination runs riot until I finally give up and come to the acceptance that I will never see or wear these beloved bits of clothing again.
Then as I decide to turn in for perhaps a restless night of sleep with nightmares of seeing someone else wearing my shorts to the beach, I turn over my pillow to look for my pajamas and lo and behold, there they are. Neatly folded and lying on top of my t-shirt and boxer shorts that doubles up as pajamas. The sigh of relief is only out done by the cry of disbelief; “who could have put them there?” Then the horrible realization hits me; “I probably did!”
“But why”, I cry out? “For the same reason you put your socks in the fridge the other day, or the knives and forks in the dirt bin”, my beloved wife reminds me. Such is the burden of old age.
Logic is lost somewhere along the way. There is no reasonable explanation for this strange and even mysterious behaviour. All I know is that my shorts are back where they belong in the top draw of my cupboard and I can sleep well tonight. If you see me wearing my checkered shorts and a striped shirt that clashes dramatically with them, just shake your head and be thankful that you are not getting old yet.