More Oddly Missing Items

After Ms. MiniD went back to college, we decided to resume our regular schedule of crazy living. My husband went about refilling his “wine cellar” (since he’s finished painting it and putting in new moulding). The “cellar” is not a room, per se. It’s actually the closet under the stairs. However, it’s now a very nice closet under the stairs.

For the last year, the bottles have been stacked in a haphazard fashion right at the cellar door. This is because our basement flooded from above (toilet that kept running, and ran for two hours before anyone noticed it) and we moved everything out. This was when Mr. D. got the bright idea of urban renewal for the wine cellar.

We keep the really good stuff in the “cellar.” Sunday, Mr. D began to put the bottles back. He’s actually been working on it for the last few weekends. He’s very particular. He has a computer program and a scanner where he logs the bottles in, and also a notebook where he writes the new bottles in and crosses off any we decide to drink.

He came upstairs later in the day asking me had I taken any bottles out? Hell no. We have plenty of house wine upstairs. Not that I would open a bottle myself. I rarely drink alone, and if he’s out of town, I might have a glass if the bottle is open.

I asked Mr. D why. “I think I’m missing 20 bottles of wine!” he says.

20 bottles! That’s a lot.

We thought it might be our daughter, but no, Ms. MiniD’s alcohol of choice is the hard stuff, and that’s upstairs. Anyway, she wouldn’t know how to use a corkscrew if her life depended on it. She can’t even hide her dirty shot glasses without getting caught.

This morning, he decided to come to work a little later and play the piano for a few minutes. When he got to work, he asked me, did I do anything with his music books? No… I have my own music books, for violin. I ask why. He says, “My two Neil Young books are gone!”

Who would take those? My son made off with all of the Beethoven books, and also Chopin, but he can’t stand Neil Young.

As some might remember, my mother-in-law’s ashes have mysteriously disappeared, as have one of my paintings and my husband’s old sword collection.

We have a lot of keys out, to cleaners, exterminators. One exterminator left his employ with our key, but we were told that everything was just hunky dory. The contractor who remodeled our bathroom had a key. We’ve sometimes let workmen in and left, trusting them to lock up and not rob us blind. I even let the piano tuner tune by himself, but not any more.

I hate to think anyone I know and have known for ten years or more would be guilty of the five-finger discount, but these items didn’t walk out of the house on their own.

I decided to get all of the locks changed, and I did. From now on, with my diligence, we should not be missing anything of consequence (or not).

I’m keeping my fingers crossed anyway.

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