August 21, 1985
There is a phantom thief in my house. Every day something disappears and no one know who took it.There are empty pitchers of juice in the refrigerator, open cookie jars on the counter, potato chip trails through the hall and empty boxes of popsicles in the freezer. I’ve been gathering evidence trying to track down this person’s identity for years. He leaves chocolate covered towels in the bathroom, sticky door knobs all over the house and footprints through spilled ginger ale in the kitchen.
He likes to watch TV because there are smudges around the dial, peanuts under the cushions on the couch and popcorn on the carpet in front of the tube.
The cookie snatcher also visits my mother’s house.She says there are mysterious empty gum wrappers on the table, unaccounted for tootsie roll wrappers in the trash can and the drawer where the cookies are kept is always left open.
Every time I think I’m closing in on the sticky fingered snatcher he seems to elude me. I was washing ice cream off a face the other day that I was sure had eaten the last of my favorite flavor in the freezer only to be told the neighbor had been giving out treats.
I hope I soon solve this mystery. As my kids say, “there’s never anything good to eat at our house.”