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Vanishing Facts

The fact is,Things (specifically articles of clothing) VANISH in this house.

For many years I pooh-poohed this notion convinced that both Rockstar and Genius were evolving an increasingly fantastical list of explanations for the disappearance of their favorite T-shirts. They blamed everyone who set foot over the threshold including their best friends and the cleaning lady and then, when those assertions made me angry, they moved on to other more incredible explanations such as ghosts in the Yellow Bedroom. But now (several years after their departure from the nest) I am forced to admit that there is something VERY strange going on here.

Let’s start with underwear. Not socks (we all have a sock monster in residence) that’s boring; clearly the number of socks that emerge from the dryer is lesser than or greater than but not equal to the number that went in – I’m talking about something a LOT more serious and sinister. I own about twenty tank top/stretch vest thingies that I wear every day. They are sort of the foundation layer that helps conceal numerous lumps and bumps and of these twenty of course there is a firm favorite. The one that is EXACTLY the right length, not too tight not too loose, the PERFECT shade of Navy and completely irreplaceable as I’ve had it for years and have no idea where it was purchased. Needless to say it is THIS tank that goes missing. The first time it was gone for about six weeks. It’s hard to describe my ensuing rage when frenetic emptying of laundry baskets and closets were not successful. I wouldn’t have cared about any of the other nineteen but I NEEDED THIS ONE BACK. Eventually it just innocently re-appeared in a pile of clean washing on our bed. No explanations, no apologies, nothing but I was so happy to see it I didn’t care. I think I wore it twice before it vanished again, this time it’s been over three months and I’ve completely lost all hope.

What is even more bizarre is that in addition to regular missing favorites, NEW items of clothing  (not owned by any family member) appear and EXHAUSTIVE investigation as to their point of origin doesn’t solve the mystery. There is no one in my house who wears a woman’s size 5 shoe and yet on more than one occasion a brand new pair of darling sandals appear on the shoe rack in the garage. You could try and argue that a guest left them there but seriously who comes over for dinner in sandals and leaves bare-foot? Anyway this is nothing but a tease as the mystery shoes are always ones I would dearly love to wear but there is no chance of me squeezing my Ugly Sister size 8 foot into a Dainty Cinderella size 5 (trust me I have tried.)

Mufasa has spent far too many hours of his life blaming Rockstar and Genius for his disappearing underwear. He refuses to accept any other explanation despite the fact that they live in LA and NY respectively and would not be remotely interested in his boring Costco boxers. It’s just as well I trust him implicitly because I suspect other wives might become somewhat unhinged at the number of times he has to replace ‘missing’ knickers.

As distressing as all these lost clothing stories are, I now have renewed faith as yesterday a MIRACLE occurred. I plucked out a pair of black leggings (from my collection of at least eight) and discovered to my shock and delight that THIS pair was not mine. I have no idea how or why they are in my wardrobe but they are literally the BEST black leggings in the universe. Soft, good quality Lycra with no shine, a perfect fit, just tight enough to make me look slim without cutting off circulation to vital organs. They are GORGEOUS. I know I didn’t buy them because if I had ever found a pair this great I would have bought the entire stock in black and one in every other available color.

SO, a gift from the clothes snatcher? A little reward for accepting that the navy tank is never coming home?

Who knows? Who cares?  Not me but I will be guarding my new acquisition very carefully – they will have to be hand washed and returned straight to a special locked drawer as I cannot risk them vanishing into thin air at the whim of the ghost thief.

I realize that by publishing this I run the risk of attracting hordes of crazy women claiming to have left their black leggings at my house while I was out, but I’m banking on them being at least smart enough to realize that’s a little tricky to explain.

For now I think my new favorites are safe, at least until the next vanishing act.

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