I don't claim to keep the cleanest house in the world. In fact, I may be competing for messiest at the moment. There is paperwork everywhere, Christmas stuff lying around and general chaos. I tell myself that this is all part of the tidying up, part of making the house look better, but somehow that 'better' never arrives.
Despite my untidiness, this discovery when cleaning the kitchen floor (you see, I do some cleaning!) was rather a shock.
It is a well-known fact in our house that nothing stays in the same place for long. Pick it up ... walk around ... put it down ... go somewhere else ... can't possibly find the object ever again. The biggest culprit? My husband.
So it was with my kitchen scissors. To cut a long story short (ahem!) my husband lost them.
I've learnt over the years to show a little generosity of spirit about such things, a little patience, to give it all a bit of time. After all, who knows when something may turn up (just as you put down the forms for the school trip, or the music for the trombone exam, or you favourite pen...) Eventually most items reappear.
But after nearly two months without the kitchen scissors (yes, I improvised a lot using sharp knives) I gave in and purchased a new pair - not least because I wasn't quite sure how I was going to wrap the Christmas presents.
I buy new kitchen scissors. I get them home. I read the packaging.
It is winter. It is cold. I need to wear socks and boots.
This is to be expected but, as I rummaged through the sock drawer this morning to find a pair of brown socks, I wondered whether I am I the only person in the world to only choose socks that match the colour of her boots?
Black boots, black socks.
Brown boots, brown socks.
You can't see the socks once the boots are on.
And the trousers won't necessarily match either the boot or sock colour.