Despite all evidence to the contrary, I declare my innocence

I testify, here and now, that I have not now, nor in recent memory, nor in faraway memory, lost, forgotten, or otherwise misplaced a single one of our spoons. 

S., who cannot be here to testify today, swore on our recently discovered-beneath-the-bed copy of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, he has not now, nor in recent memory, nor in faraway memory, lost, forgotten, or otherwise misplaced a single one of our spoons.

And yet, in our silverware drawer, we have eight dinner forks, eight salad forks, eight knives and….two soup spoons and….three regular spoons.

To elaborate further, in 2004 we bought two full sets of beautiful-yet-dishwasher-safe silverware from the Junior League resale store in Pittsburgh, PA for a cost of fifty dollars, total, affording us, in addition to the various flatware we received for our wedding that was not dishwasher safe, and the flatware donated to us by S.’s parents, and my family silver, more than enough utensils with which to eat for the rest of our conceivable and unconceivable lives.

Note: Two full sets.

Also, note: The second set sat in a box until approximately midway through 2006 when we ran out of spoons entirely. And so, both S. and I vehemently declaring our innocence in the case of the missing spoons, I imparting logical blame on what is (obviously and frighteningly) a spoon-stealing ghost, and S. blaming (unfairly) me, we opened the second box of utensils. To date, we have not touched the second round of forks or knives but now find ourselves virtually spoonless, once again.

We hold our ground. I believe obviously our shifty, sneaky, oddly spoon obsessed ghost followed us from Pittsburgh to Michigan and is probably also responsible for socks that lose their partners, forgetting to program the coffee maker in the evening, and taping America’s Next Top Model marathons even though nobody somebody ends up watching them. S. believes I lose spoons.

But I say this with certainty – while I may bring spoons with me to work, I always bring them home and put them in the dishwasher immedietely. The problem rests, not with me, but with the transference from dishwasher to silverware drawer.

No, S. maintains – “C., you just lose spoons. Could you please pay more attention? These were nice spoons!”

Outside negotiators, my brother D. and his wife, M., were called in. “Who is the yogurt eater, the oatmeal eater, the tea drinker,” my brother asks, as M. nods her agreement. “Yogurt and oatmeal eaters, and tea drinkers, they use a lot of spoons and are likely to lose them.” All heads turn towards me, as everyone knows I eat yogurt and oatmeal every day, and drink tea several times throughout the day. The logic from the Pittsburgh contigent of our family seems to be that obviously, I am the one losing the spoons.

“Also,” S. added, going in for the kill, like the lawyer he will so soon be, “She likes soup.”

The jury decided, and I have been convicted of losing well over a dozen spoons in five years. But the thing is, and I mean this truly – I really believe I bring EVERY SPOON HOME with me. I am careful. And I’ve never once discovered a rogue spoon in a desk drawer or underneath the car seat, and I’ve never thrown a spoon away. So despite all evidence to the contrary, I again declare my innocence. I have never lost, forgotten, or otherwise misplaced any of our spoons. I’ve been convicted on circumstantial evidence, and I expect to appeal.

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13 Responses to Despite all evidence to the contrary, I declare my innocence

  1. Katie says:

    Had almost the same argument with J about tupperware! *Someone* has lost all of ours between here and work, leaving us with like, 10 lids and no containers.

    Then I hear the clincher, “Well, sometimes when we forget to wash them out after a few days, they are disgusting and I just throw them out. We need to stop doing that.”

    Not we…. you, J, you.

    I think we had an admission of guilt!

  2. yogamum says:

    It’s the spoon gnomes, stealing the spoons. I believe in your innocence. (Did you ever see the South Park episode about the underwear gnomes?)

    I recently discovered where the missing socks go when we got a new washer and dryer. That was pretty obvious, in retrospect. They were behind the washer & dryer, covered in lint and (ew!) mouse poo.

  3. Amy says:

    At least you OWN the spoon. Terrible Chicago roommates lost all of my spoons but somehow all of their spoons remained in the drawer where they belonged. And I have NEVER taken a spoon out of the house in my life. You don’t need spoons to eat Reeses Cups.

  4. musingsfromthesofa says:

    Spoons have an innate wanderlust. As soon as they are let out of the drawer and get a glimpse of The Outside World, they get the urge to travel. Until, one day, they pack a little knapsack, and off they go.
    I once worked at an office where each employee was presented with their own mug and teaspoon. Within 6 months, all the teaspoons had vanished.

  5. Emily Barton says:

    I’m absolutely certain it’s The Spoon Stealing Ghost. His cousin The Turn Lights Back On As Soon As They’ve Been Switched Off Ghost lives with us.

  6. mandarine says:

    Are you political opponents of some kind? This really looks like one of the (not really funny) tricks the Stasi would play on East German couples when they were tagged ‘enemies of the state’. First the little things went missing, then bigger things happened, until husband and wife split. Sometimes, they’d hunt people right to depression. Suicide is cleaner than political assassination.

    Or maybe the spoon are not dishwasher safe after all and tend to spontaneously melt after 54 drying cycles…

  7. Smithereens says:

    I remember that one day you posted a note that someone in your office stole a yogurt from you… that’s the same person who stole your 10 spoons. When you think of it: 1 yogurt + 10 spoons = not much in a spoonful

  8. Cam says:

    I had all of my spoons until I married current spouse. I don’t think I’m to blame. My mother used to compulsively count her silver after washing. No trash was to be disposed of until the silver count was done. Count was always to equal 23. Can we guess why this count was implemented? Interestingly, I don’t think she has done this since my father died. Nor do I think she’s lost any spoons. Not that I’d blame the dead for spoon-stealing, but I think it adds some credence to your ghost theory.

    I lost a good silver bowl once. Couldn’t find it anywhere. 6 months later my then 7-year old son cried about how his worm farm had dried up — and showed me my good bowl filled with dried up dirt. He explained it had been under his bed and he had been keeping his worm moist. It must have crawled away….

    Shall I conclude that there is something with the male chromosome that lends itself to the disappearance of eating utensils? Hmmmm….no, not I. I won’t make that assertion. Draw your own conclusions!

  9. Courtney says:

    Katie…hmm. It’s good we have a phase ten/scattergories tribunal next week, to properly assess and weigh the situation…
    Yogamum – thank you. I think you are the only person here to actually announce in writing that I am, yes, innocent…and, by the way, I do believe you are the blogger who freaked me out about lint ANYWHERE AROUND MY DRYER, let alone socks…
    A. – good cover. I believe you have never taken spoons from your home, but I have seen them implemented more than once, digging into a grapefruit!
    Musings…okay, I haven’t yet stopped laughing from the wanderlust line…
    Mandarine…I sort of want to jump off a building now. We ARE political opponents. Damn. I did read about your president and Bruni today…seems the French aren’t overly thrilled with her?
    Smithereens -ha! I think you are right. We may have two clues…
    Cam – Done. It is obviously (shhh) S. I love the thought of your mother counting her silver…don’t know why…

  10. mandarine says:

    I don’t mind her. I do mind the fact that our president is vain enough to pursue such frivolous affairs and thinking it good for his popularity to expose it all over the media. I wonder what will happen when she dumps him in a couple of weeks.

  11. Fence says:

    I blame the dishwasher imp.

    Most people think that the dishwasher is a simple machine. It isn’t, it is simply where the dishwasher imp lives. Come on, how else do you think your dirty plates get cleaned? Thats the imp, scrubbing away. Only sometimes you get a dodgy one. One that’ll steal the very items they should be caring for. And because he, or she, is an imp, and small they tend to go for the cutlery. Yours obviously has a spoon fetish.

  12. Andi says:

    Is there a crack between the stove and counter, by chance? I’m thinking spoons would like to hide there if they were trying to frame you. Which, obviously, they are!

  13. Krista says:

    I do not work and I stay home with my son. My husband never takes any of our silverware to work either. It started first with the small spoons going from 8 to 4 then 2 mysteriously reappeared. Now it’s been the big spoons. I had 8 now I’m down to 4. What’s with ghosts and spoon fetishes. It may be time to ask A&E’s paranormal research state to find out why ghosts have spoon fetish’s.

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