I walk around the little house, skipping across a spread of books, sweaty and sticky, wishful thinking of taking a nice hot shower at 12 midnight. Of course, my health advisor would not allow me to.I slammed open all the door of my cupboards and pulling out all my dressers, grabbing collared shirts, black shirts, dri-fits. Then, alas! The drawer labelled "shorts" is empty. Staring mockingly at me was the plain brown wood. I can feel it chiding me. My drawer probably ate it up. Slamming my drawer shut, i was determined to look for the missing shorts.
I switched into detective mode. A desperate detective at least. I will not be humiliated by a childish act by my drawer. Eating up my shorts may seem preposterous, but i did catch a guilty look from it. I rounded up my gang of trusty detectives. Mr.Notepad, Mrs.glasseyes and last but not least the thinking cap. We scoped and cleaned every corner of the house. The tv and radio refused to speak when questioned. Changing its channels constantly and torturing them still did not not lead us to any clues. I slammed my fist and decided that that was it. I will not let this conspiracy continue.
Then, the draconian came out and sreamed, " GET TO BED! ITS 12AM! YOUR SHORTS ARE IN THE WASH!"
This explains alot.
(I took this from personal blog, dated 15 July 2010)
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