The only reason I developed my rudimentary finger picking style was because picks disappeared. I don’t know how they migrated from the vicinity of the guitar. Another is microfiber cloths- I’ll have a big stack, and they gradually dwindle in numbers. AFA socks go, when I used the apartment complex’s drier, I consistently found amongst my clothes those tiny socks that don’t have a leg, whatever they’re called. I always checked the drier ahead of time.
Fingernail clippers.
I’ve spent a small fortune on them.
There’s a giant pile of them stacked somewhere, with miles of tiny ball chain.
Collar stays for men’s dress shirts.
Pens. Always losing them, always buying them.
Pen caps. I’ve got other people’s lost pens apparently.
Cables. When I go looking for them they’re hiding. And I know for certain where I left them, but when I need them they’re gone and nowhere to be found. Untul I don’t need them anymore, then they will reappear.
At the moment it seems a particular cat-nip mouse is missing. It had a pink fuzzy nose and a skinny little tail. They have been removed, by someone, possibly the same someone who hid his grey felt mousey, from himself. And ruining everyone else’s Saturday morning wailing his fool head off.
Microfiber clothes
Handkerchiefs
Pens
Combs
In our house it’s:
tape measures
needle nosed pliers
Rolls of blue tape
razor knives
and one particular pocket knife
Hair scrunchies.
Back when I had a cat he used to take them and bury them places, like his food dish.
I don’t have a cat anymore, but I still lose those damned things all the time.
I confess. I have everyone’s microfiber cloths. They turn up everywhere, some aren’t even unwrapped.
You forgot about cat ghosts.
I like that idea. I miss him.
Pens disappear.
Then sometimes I find a batch of pens accumulated somewhere. Not always the same somewhere, of course. (Plus which, these days, sometimes the dog has eaten them. Mostly not swallowed.)
Clothes hangers do the same thing. Sometimes there seem to be plenty of extras. Sometimes there don’t seem to be enough.
Gloves. Only ever one of a pair, though, just like with socks. (I wonder if I lose other stuff at a similar rate, and simply don’t notice because there isn’t a telltale one left over.)
All of the above, plus tweezers.
I’ve never been into pens, don’t care, will use whatever. But I somehow acquired this amazing G2 pen with a big fat silicone barrel that makes me feel like I could write a whole book right now.
I’ve had it for like 7 years. I even bought some replacement ink for it! It’s never left my desk.
And now it’s gone. And I have no idea how or why. I am the only person in this house. All of the stuff is where I put it. I even looked under and behind the desk (note to self: vacuum under the desk).
The pen is just….gone. GONE!!
Hey. I stol…umm…found one at the clinic the other day.
Are you a receptionist in a clinic, perhaps?
As every mechanic knows, the 10mm socket.
Two motorcycle disappearances that still baffle me. I was doing something toward the rear of the bike and dropped a nut or a bolt, and it never reached the ground. This was a KLR650, a bare bike with no plastic places for things to hide. Which brings me to my VFR800, a fully tupperwared bike. At a drive up ATM my card got lost between the tank and the fairing. I bounced the bike a bunch of times, then I parked it and started taking off the plastic. Never found the card.