Missing kitchen utensils

I've been reading The Big Book of Classic Fantasy and in an early story, Sacrifice, by Aleksey Remisov, I ran across a passage that made me chuckle. It describes my household exactly. All I have to do is remove Pyotr Nickolayevich's name and replace it with my wife's:

[Edith] also liked tidying up, everything to its place, and [she] did it so cunningly that after [her] tidying whatever [she] tidied could never be found again: many things, some of them quite necessary, disappeared in this manner.

Happens here repeatedly. The latest is my mandoline that has gone missing for about a month now.

I once lost a CD for over a year. I turned the whole place upside down trying to find it. Next to the stereo is an exercise pole for the cats with several platforms on it. Turns out I had put the CD on the topmost platform, which is above eye level. I only found it because I noticed in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom that there was something on top of the cat pole.

This subject reminds me of the bit in Douglas Adams's The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy where unattended biros (American translation: ballpoint pen) slip through wormholes in space and end up on a planet completely inhabited by biros.

Terry Pratchett had the opposite take. He said that the Big Bang Theory is wrong and the Steady State Theory is correct. But the new matter isn't hydrogen gas as the physicists say. Instead the newly created matter takes the form of that kitchen utensil you don't remember buying that's jamming your kitchen drawer.

-Paul W.

[Jenise]

Larry, sounds like my house. The DH doesn't store, he stashes. Unless they're tall and skinny, a shape he has a predilection for pushing back against the wall behind the counter, whereupon he no longer sees it. Things I frequently say: "Bob, it's called RETRIEVABLE storage! I have to be able to find it!" and "Bob, it's not invisible!"