Observations by Key Monroe~~Home of Right Opinions, Cynical Viewpoints, and TMI in Hefty Doses
|E-mail: keymonroe [at] alltel [dot] net

June 26, 2005


I had my first taste of coffee sometime around age 10. My mom almost always had a mug in her hand, and half-empty mugs could usually be found here and there all over the house and vehicles.

I thought my mother was superwoman. I watched her hustle and bustle all over the house, getting things done, making things happen. And, hey, perhaps the caffeine gave her the motivation, but I was convinced then, as I am now, that there is nothing [short of brain surgery] that the woman can not do.

Given that... I always found it humorous when she would stop, look down at her empty hand and lose all train of thought, before asking the four walls and all in it, "Where'd I lay down my coffee?"

She'd putter, retracing her steps, for a moment or two, give up, and then pour up another mug.

I always wondered, amused, how superwoman managed to lose her beverage of choice, particularly since I never seemed to lose track of anything that I actually enjoyed.

And so... I thought of her this morning, not as I chatted away with my aunt on the phone, and drank hazelnut coffee out of my favorite beach mug...

...but when it disappeared.

Now. I thought of giving up, of pouring another mug. But, NO! It was the principle of the matter. I MUST find it. I. MUST. NOT. TURN. INTO. MY. MOTHER. Not because she's not an amazing person, but because... Well, isn't that obvious?

I retraced my steps. Once. Twice. Thrice. No mug. No coffee. No beverages to be found. Unnerving. Now, I had been home alone, meaning no one else ran off with it. Nooo, I did something with it. So I got off the phone, and having only visited three rooms prior to the disappearance, I checked them again, more thoroughly. I even checked dumb places like the pantry and refrigerator.

And then... I gave up. But I'll be damned if I was going to pour another cup! No, not gonna happen. I was finished anyway, I told myself.

Time passed. Three hours to be exact. And then I noticed the microwave was chanting it's fave word: "END! END! END!"

I didn't remember putting anything in there, but I checked. And yeah, there was my beautiful Seaside mug, holding my now cold hazelnut coffee. And yeah, I felt retarded.

But even more unnerving: I still don't remember putting it in there, not even a fuzzy memory. Nothing...

So... I figure that either my aging process is in warp speed, or I had a visitor.

posted by Key on 06:11 PM | Comments (7)

My mother left burning Chesterfields everywhere. If she couldn't find her cigarette she'd just light another one. My house looked like a 42nd Street bar growing up. I still have end tables, sewing machine cabinets, cedar chests with nice inch long burns on them.

Posted by: Velociman at June 26, 2005 09:09 PM

It's Dr. Pepper cans for me.

Posted by: Kelly at June 27, 2005 07:29 AM

Had to be a "visitor". I have one to.

Posted by: Sam at June 27, 2005 05:45 PM

I used to work for an absent minded professor of an English woman who'd frequently ask me to help her find her eyeglasses... which she had usually pushed back up on top of her head.

I'd say you have a way to go before you can beat that!

Posted by: Omnibus Driver at June 28, 2005 02:30 PM

Kinda like the morning I lost the damn POT...and found it in the fridge.

I still have no idea how it ended up in there. ;-)

Posted by: Tammi at June 28, 2005 09:18 PM

Car keys. If I leave them anywhere but the "usual place," I'm schnitzled.

Posted by: Jim - PRS at June 28, 2005 11:16 PM

I read about your "visitor" before, and it freaked me out. Should have remembered the reaction before, but NO, I had to read it again. Damn.

I'm pretty sure that there's an extra occupant here, but I try not to think about it... until I read stuff like that! :)

Posted by: That 1 Guy at June 29, 2005 12:59 AM
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