Month: November 2015

The Plot Thickens

After I published yesterday's piece, it occurred to me that it might be dangerously simplistic to assume that all three shirts were stolen by the same person/force. Why couldn't it have gone like this: the Salsa jersey, which disappeared several years before the other two, I simply lost. (No idea how, but still.) And then my stalker took the grey tech tee. And then the house spirit, which witnessed both the taking of the t-shirt and, later, the ensuing "Am I going insane?" confusion it engendered in me, found the whole thing delightful and made the Ibex shirt disappear.

Beware conclusions that are overly simplistic is the takeaway here.

Come Back to Me, O Lost Beloved Shirts

Over the past several years, all of the following have disappeared:

  • a red wool Salsa biking jersey, of which I was quite fond
  • a grey Montbell tech t-shirt, of which I was quite fond
  • an orange wool Ibex tech t-shirt, of which I was quite fond

As I see it, the two most likely explanations for their disappearances are either an unsettled, attention-seeking house spirit, or else the occult machinations of some sort of trickster deity. What else really makes sense? I mean, how otherwise does one lose t-shirts?

The only other possibility I can see--and this is a long-shot--is that I have a quiet and really quite subtle stalker. She (for it would have to be a she--no male could maintain this level of concentration over all these years) would have to sneak into my house when I'm leave. She would, of course, know exactly when I leave, and have a very good sense of how long I'd be gone. She would move quietly around the house. She would look at things but rarely touch. She would want to leave no trace of her passing. (She would have given up on perfume years ago, lest I catch the merest trace of it wafting through the air.)

She would long to be invisible. Oh, what a joy that would be! Then she could stay in the house when I came home. She'd have to be very, very quiet, but she could just stand there, ever so quietly, and watch me from a very close distance.

Every so often, it would get to be too much. She just wouldn't be able to stand letting me go. She would have to take something with her. But what would go unnoticed? The safest bet, as she would see it, would be a shirt that hadn't been worn in a long time. And, since she'd have been watching me, she would know exactly which shirt that would be.

And then, some indeterminate time later, I would say--and do say--"Wait a minute. Whatever happened to that shirt I used to have? I don't remember the last time I saw it." And I would and do look around everywhere I could and can imagine it might be, but I couldn't and can't find it. Eventually, with a puzzled look on my face, I would and do give up.

It's probably a disgruntled house spirit. That makes the most sense.