On Pins and Needles

On this Halloween night an omen presented itself, as omens will, in sudden and mysterious fashion.

In anticipation of the birth of our son, the McBonerito's four grandparents are gathered in one house for the first time since our wedding day, 11 years ago.  The due date looms tomorrow, but dates and predictions don't mean much to the little guy in utero.  So we wait.  And while we wait, we feast.  My father, in a desperate search for a lemon to garnish his happy hour martini, removed entirely one of the bottom drawers of the refrigerator.  Unable to replace the drawer, he left the task to me.  What I found upon opening the door would shock me:

Frequent McBoners may remember posts of yore, when an equally frantic search for coffee earned me a similar reward.

Bear in mind that in preparation for the arrival of guests, I had scoured that fridge--every shelf and tray removed, cleaned and replaced.  Not a speck of anything foreign could be found.

What can it mean, then, this SECOND pearl-headed refrigerator pin?  A portend of things to come?  A puckish spirit run amok of our sewing kit?  Nay!  We own no such pins.  My sometimes-popular wife, ever the optimist, embraced the message as positive, of course, and ordered the pin placed in the child's room.

I, the atheist, am shook at the foundations.  Once more I must question what I believe.  I turn to you, gentle McBoners, in my search for meaning, of pins in fridges, of life, of the universe and its all mad workings.

nwb

The Mysterious Case of the Missing Coffee

I never expected this saga would continue beyond last night.  I thought one expletive-filled rant would diffuse my rage enough that I could drive to the store and replace the coffee I had given up for lost.  By the time I woke up this morning, it was behind me.

Then I found the pin.

I'm not sure what to make of all this.  In the movies, this sort of subtle 'clue' usually foreshadows ghostly terrors to come.  The thing is, I don't believe in ghosts.  At least I don't think I do.  Like anyone, I've had some spooky encounters in my life, but nothing that would ever make me believe definitively in paranormal activity.  I'm much more likely to suspect someone is messing with me.  I doubt that is the case this time.

As I amply illustrated in my previous post, I have over years become a certified caffeine addict.  So, like the millions of other caffaholics in the world, the first thing I do in the morning is gravitate zombie-like to the coffee maker.  This morning being no different, I brewed a pot and then opened the fridge in search of some breakfast.  Well, wouldn't you know it, there's the vanished coffee from last night, in the spot in the door normally reserved for butter: 

This in itself is nothing strange.  I keep the coffee in a cupboard, but certainly could have, in my absent-mindedness, stuck it in the fridge the last time I used it.  The thing is: I looked there last night.  I looked everywhere.  I was, after all, desperate.

But whatever.  I grabbed the bag and was about to shut the fridge when I spotted this lying on the bottom shelf:

Now what the hell?  A pearl-headed pin?  I'm fairly certain that this object came from the sewing kit that belonged to Alex's late grandmother.  I'm absolutely certain that the pin wasn't in the fridge last night.

Normally, I would have appealed to my wife.  She's the only one who uses that sewing kit, which is kept in the hall closet.  It seems unlikely that she would leave a pin in the fridge, but these things happen.  The only snag there is, Alex has been at a conference in Louisville, Kentucky since Wednesday.  I'm all alone here, and I've been in the fridge at least a dozen times since she left.

I have no good explanation as to why these two items mysteriously appeared in a refrigerator that I scoured last night in a fruitless hunt for coffee.  Either there is some sort of supernatural activity going on--Alex's grandmother leaving a message, perhaps, or a former resident of the house having a bit of fun?--or I'm as blind as a bat.

I'm at a loss.  What do you think, McBoners?

nwb