Situational deafness isn't everything I hoped it would be. Despite working late last night and then going to Wal-Mart for the wife before coming home, I was up early with projects on my mind.
I decided to take Susan up on having the kids help in the yard. It was a punishment for a stunt they pulled while mom was trying to get a shower last night. I'm not sure why I needed to be punished for that. Anyway after only four and one half hours of constantly getting on the kids case, the poop is scooped. Most of the rocks are back in the rock garden, and I think the bricks are back where they belong, which isn't in the middle of the lawn.
There is a giant slotted spoon under the cloths line. I didn't want to ask about that. It's late enough in the day that I don't want to go up that hill.
There is somebody living in my house that I've never met. His name is "Not Me". I don't know if Not Me is a boy or a girl. I think it depends on the situation. I've not been able to establish enough conclusive evidence as to gender. Yet.
I'm starting to believe that Not Me is a brother sister team, and they have a dog. I hear about him sometimes. Usually I hear about the dog in very quick verbal busts, like; "NotMeDaddythedogdidit". The speaker never wants to stick around long enough to properly annunciate their explanation of the events leading up to my inquiry.
It seems that the more Not Me is involved in an incident the fewer details that are available. I don't know what Not Me has on my kids to be able to blackmail them so effectively. They never want to say much when he is involved in an incident. They're afraid to spill the beans on the guy. It's kinda like the mob. Nobody saw anything and nobody wants to say anything about what they didn't see.
It's a mystery. The Not Me mystery. "Where are daddy's tools?" I'll ask. "What tools daddy?" is the answer I'll get. "The ones in daddy's tool box" I say, already aware of the exercise in futility I'm engaged upon. "I want my (insert name of the tool that's missing this time), have you seen it?" I ask all ready knowing the hopelessness of my situation. "Not Me" is the answer. I should have known that evil villain broke into my locked garage and took the one tool I was going to need today. Why did he/she/dog need to break off the limbs of the bushes too?
How do I deal with this epidemic of petty destruction and misappropriation of my stuff isn't something I'm instinctively equipped for. You can't call the police. What are you going to tell them? "My 9/16th drill bit is missing and my daughter says she saw NotMeTheDog take it, officer". "No sire this isn't a joke". "Please stop hitting me." "I'm not resisting." "Not the taser....Ahhhhhhh!"
The judge says that I can finish this post after a 30 day in house "evaluation" at the hospital. I think he's heard of Not Me before but he doesn't want to say so publicly. What does this guy have on everyone?