“When all the details fit in perfectly, something is probably wrong with the story.”
― Charles Baxter
I’ve taken a few weeks off from Writers Quote Wednesdays due to life junk (that’s the worst kind of junk, IMO) but this week I’m back for this week’s theme “mystery”. If you are interested in checking out this challenge check out The Silver Threading and Ronovan Writes
Actually, check them out anyway. Both authors have some great advice, insight and creativity to share.
I am quite a fan of mysteries, but more than anything I love ones with a potentially supernatural element to them, so I think I will tell you a true story, my own mystery, the moving tequila bottle.
It was not a dark and stormy night. Well, i think it was dark, but I’d just finished up a rough work week and it was Friday and I was pretty relieved to be home and getting a start of the weekend. My husband was due home in an hour. We were renovating our new house, slowly but surely, a few years from having children and still young and fun.
So I started the evening with Cuervo. In my orange 1960’s kitchen, I sliced the limes, got out the salt shaker and had myself a shot. Then I wandered downstairs to see what was on television, savoring the warmth that ebbed away at my work worries.
A commercial later, I returned to the kitchen for another. The limes were there, the shot glass, the salt, but the tequila was not.
Now I certainly am not always the most organized person, in my actions or in my head so I assumed I put it away. I had not. I checked the refrigerator, the sink, the other cabinets. I went downstairs to see if I had carried the bottle down with me without thinking. Checked the shelves in the living room, the dining room, everywhere I had been. The bottle was no where to be seen.
Frustrated and thirsty, I took a step back, trying to determine where my well earned stress relief could have vanished to. Gazing around the room, at last I saw.
Our poorly designed kitchen cabinets hung against the wall with a 4 foot space above them to the cathedral ceiling. We, of course took full advantage of this space by piling every box of kitchen products and wine glasses we never used but didn’t want to throw away on top.
There, resting in front of the glass tea set was a bottle of Jose Cuervo, 3 feet above my head.
Now you can say, well, you’ve already admitted to being disorganized. You checked the bookshelves for goodness sake. And you are correct, but I would counter by pointing out that my scatterbrained habits of sticking items anywhere, generally had much more to do with laziness than complete irrationality. And it took some effort to stand on my toes and reached up to the tops of those cabinets to retrieve the bottle. I am quite sure I would recall placing it there in the first place.
So if I rule out a memory lapse or brief bout of insanity, which i prefer to do, how did that bottle get there? And did it have anything to do with the voice my husband would occasionally hear calling him “honey” when I was not home?
I wonder if perhaps, a former resident of our home thought that drinking tequila was not fitting of a proper young wife. But I suppose that is something I will never know. A mystery forever.