I think something sinister has happened to my dustpan.

The door to the shed is open again. It’s a black yawning maw in a white face.

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I think something sinister has happened to my dustpan.

Today is Thursday, the second day of Lent. I am sick, and I came home from work early after being sure to pass my germs along to everyone before I left. It is the second day of Lent and because I have given up TV, I have been SO PRODUCTIVE. My sick day has been more productive than my healthiest health day (what?). Last night I enacted phase one of Plan: Rearrange Everything by moving the TV into the sunroom. That is now a nice and separate little room for Chad and I to play games and watch movies in, instead of the main focus of the house. Now that I have broken free of TV’s grubby little clutches, I have to contain it as much as possible while I’m still able. I think it would be nice and freeing to not have a TV at all. Today, I used my sick day to clean, do laundry, and move around whatever furniture my feeble little arms could shove around. I folded all of the laundry,

The sink is making demon noises. Hold on.

It made slow burbly knocking noises at me as I walked across the kitchen to it. I turned on the water (maybe it’s just thirsty?) and it did not come out red as blood or black and gooey. So, plus one for a non-haunted (probably) sink, minus one for life missing out on a horror movie moment.

It’s stopped gurgling. I guess it was thirsty after all.

I folded all of the laundry, I washed the bedclothes, and I swept all of the floors. Now, I have little piles of dust and dog hair in every room of the house because despite looking for it on and off for three hours, I cannot find the fucking dustpan. It’s not with the broom where it normally lives, it didn’t fall behind the washer and dryer, it wasn’t left on one of the porches, it’s not in a closet somewhere, it’s not in this house.

Which leads me to the only reasonable conclusion left, which is that something sinister has befallen it.

I want to point out for posterity that it is 6:14 in the evening and it is still light outside. The sun has just set, and everything is illuminated just fine. Whew. Winter is rough. I’m glad it’s ending. (Forever, right? Once spring comes, the days will never get shorter again! Wheeee.)

Sometimes lying to yourself is the kindest thing you can do. Pat pat.

WHERE IS THE FUCKING DUSTPAN. I am flabbergasted that it hasn’t shown up yet.

FLABBERGASTED.

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I went and wandered around again just now, looking for the dustpan. I had a hunch that I should look in Chad’s closet. So I figured I’d go poke around in there and see if I’m the type of person that has helpful hunches.

Guess what?

I’m not. Thanks a lot, hunches.

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I already peeked out the front and back doors to see if I left it on one of the porches. I even went out onto the front porch to look underneath the patio furniture. In 27 degree weather. Because it has to be somewhere! Maybe it’s in the basement. There is no conceivable reason that it would be in the basement, but there’s no conceivable reason that it wouldn’t be everywhere else that I’ve looked.

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It’s not in the basement. But now I know someone must be playing a trick on me, because when I looked out into the backyard, the shed door was open. The door kept flying open in the wind this winter, so Chad stuck a couple of bricks in front of the door to keep it shut. All that’s in that shed is a couple of tomato lattices leftover from the previous tenant and a dead rat that we haven’t been brave enough to get rid of. We never use that shed anyway, it’s too far into the backyard to be of any use to us. I think it was used when the back yard was furrowed for gardening purposes, and I’m a card-carrying couch potato. No gardening for me. Hence the giving up of TV for Lent.

I know someone is playing a trick on me because I saw the dustpan on the floor of the shed.

Ok. It’s a prank. Someone set it up and freak me out. It’s not like I stare out the window at the back shed all day.

Wait, what? That doesn’t make sense. Who would have my dustpan? Who would stick a dustpan in a shed as a prank? This is stupid. Chad probably brought it outside for some reason. And went into the shed for some other reason. And left it on the floor with the door open for yet another reasonable reason. I mean, that doesn’t make a lot of sense either, but neither does anything else I can think of.

It’s dark now. I can barely see the shed. I can’t tell if the door is open or not. It looks closed. It’s too dark to see anything.

I’m going out there.

I have to. Otherwise it’ll freak me out all night. Better to get it all over with now. This is stupid. I’m gonna check on it. The little dirt and dog hair piles are looking at me with judging eyes. Their little eyes say “Buy a vacuum!” (See? Jokes! Haha. Not scared at all.)

Wish me luck!

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I FOUND THE DUSTPAN!!!

Oh, happy day! Oh, most glorious receptacle of dust bunnies! Back in my arms where you belong!

Ok, it’s not all good news. The shed had all sorts of scratches in the door and on the walls, and there were chalk drawings on the floor around the dustpan that looked like the drawings that the goth girls made on their notebooks in middle school. The dustpan is a little sooty, and it bites more than it used to. But it’ll be fine. The dog will get used to it.

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