Whodunit
I had just come inside from waving the Baltimore grandbabies off from a weekend visit with us. Not long afterwards Darrel came into the house exclaiming, “The little s#!*” “What?” I said. “The little s#!* threw the logs into the pond.” “What happened?” I asked. “The logs I had lined up around the pond, the little s#!* threw them all into the pond and I had to fish them out.” Darrel watches a lot of Sherlock Holmes and he stood there, arms folded as though a true mystery was underfoot. “Well who did it?” I asked. We looked at each other and started laughing. Hard, belly laughs! Heading back to Baltimore was a grand baby with the build of a football player and known for being particularly strong. He was the only one seen standing near the pond with wood chips all over his shirt. To this day, our lips are sealed and the little one remains nameless. ‘The case of the floating logs’ has been unofficially closed.
Recently, I discovered ancient writings on a half wall in our dining room. The wall is adjacent to the shelves of toys and books used by visiting grandchildren. I have no idea how long the markings have been here. Faded by time or from numerous washings I do not have the slightest idea. I only noticed them because I was giving the wall a wipe down and the light was hitting it just so. When I stepped back, I noticed the bold strokes and squiggly lines to infinity. Instantly, two suspects came to mind. One now lives in Georgia the other in Baltimore. Umm I wondered… could it be. Then I thought about a little one barely able to walk who was still traveling under the radar. The last time she visited, I was a bit too huggy for her liking and she growled at me. Caught by surprise I laughed at her. Perhaps this is a revenge drawing as in “laugh at that grandmom!” I could be wrong. We are an artistic family and there maybe other suspects that I am overlooking. I do believe ‘The case of the hieroglyphics’ will remain unsolved until someone willingly confesses.
We have many such mysteries going on around our house. Most times, I put on my sleuth hat and attempt to apprehend the culprit. Unfortunately, with so many suspects to choose from and with the yet to be identified ‘not me’ lurking about, I am either completely baffled or I reach a dead end. You would think that with our nest being empty, cases would be easier to solve. Think again.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. I took a break from working on a project and went down to get a snack. All was fine until I entered the kitchen. I walked towards the refrigerator and the floor was sticky. Stickiness gripped the bottom of my socks like a suction cup every time I put my foot down. Less than an hour ago, when I was in the kitchen the floor was clean. Now it was a mess that could not be ignored. I positively hate walking on sticky floors! I looked around and noticed blotches of a sticky substance going across the room. Determined to solve this mystery, I followed the tracks. The sticky blotches went from the floor in front of the refrigerator straight to Darrel’s green chair in the living room. He was sitting in his chair sipping from a tall, frosty glass of sweet-tea with his pinky finger held high. “Aha” I said to myself, “I have caught this joker red handed.” I passionately and dramatically expressed to him my displeasure at stepping in sweet tea spilled all over the kitchen and living room floors. Darrel looked at me sympathetically and assured me that even though he was the only person who made sweet-tea, poured sweet-tea, and drank sweet-tea, he had not spilled one single drop. He looked at me with a straight face and said, “Not me honey.” I was astonished. How could I have been so sure this sweet-tea drinking innocent man of mine was guilty? Was I yet again so close but so far? Had I reached another dead end? Like so many others, ‘The case of the sticky floor’ still remains unsolved.
Life is full of mysteries, laugh at the funny ones.
Amanda 😂🤣
Thumbnail Photo by Ann H from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/love-dirty-texture-writing-11141898/
