Losing My Marbles

I think I may be. I’m not sure. But here are three things that recently happened that are forcing me to raise the uncomfortable question in regards to the soundness of my mental stability.

First, I found a quart jar of packed, labeled “Roasted Roma ‘08″ tomatoes in the drawer where I store my empty jars and paraphernalia for fixing my coffee. It was supposed to be in the freezer. I have no idea how long it had been there, but I don’t think it was that long (I fix my coffee twice a day, so I’d have seen it, right?). It was still just fine.

Second, I found part of a block of cheddar cheese stashed in the freezer above the fridge. It was supposed to be in the cheese drawer of the fridge.

Third, when I reached up in the cupboard for the container of peanut butter, I was surprised to see a pint container of sour cream sitting there. It was moldy and rotten.

I’m not sure what conclusion I should draw. I don’t normally do things like this. In fact, the only times I behave like this is when I’m pregnant.

I am not pregnant.

There’s a good chance it just runs in the family, and I’m finally, inevitably, turning into my mother. She has been known to forget to put the chicken in the chicken-corn-and-noodle soup. Or to put an empty glass pie pan on the burner of her gas stove, which is fine, except that the burner was lit. Or to forget, because she was so wrapped up in whatever it was she was writing (not a blog), she has water boiling on the stove until it’s too late and the kettle is charred black.

Speaking of stoves, just the other day Mr. Handsome cooked himself some eggs for breakfast and then left for work. About twenty minutes later, I realized that my teapot was boiling away on the stove. Upon closer examination I discovered that Mr. Handsome had left on the burner upon which he had fried his eggs. At least he had put the tea kettle on it so no one got burned. At least I had left some water in the teapot so it didn’t char.

Wait a second! Maybe Mr. Handsome is the one losing his mind, messing with my kitchen contents.

Whew! What a relief! I feel so much better, now that I’m certain all my marbles are firmly secured.

Boink. Bonk-onk-onk-nk-nk-k-k-k-k. Hey! What’s that thing dribbling and rolling across the floor, away from my chair, towards the back door? Could it be a ma—?

Eh-hem. I’m not looking.