The Black Hole

Every year when the back to school sales roll around I purchase no less than a dozen pairs of scissors. I place 2-3 pairs into rotation. Inevitably they begin to disappear and I pull out more scissors, until I have exhausted my supply, which is usually just short of the new school year, leaving everyone in my house searching for scissors during the dull drums of summer, when scissors are a must for summer craft projects to entertain small children and adults alike. I have tried everything to avoid my scissors growing legs and walking off my desk. I have written “desk scissors” on the scissors with the hope that the culprit guilty taking my scissors will realize he or she has unwittingly removed scissors from my desk, and return said scissors before I seek my revenge. I have tried a check out system for scissors. I have tried yelling and screaming, but to no avail, scissors disappear, never to be seen again.

I keep thinking with the quantity of scissors I have purchased over the years that at some point in time I am going to open up a drawer and discover a pile of scissors, or pull the lid off a box to find them all hiding, maybe under a couch, hidden in a corner, under a bed, in a closet, but alas the vast quantity of scissors has not surfaced, which has lead me to conclude that a black hole exists in my house with a gravitational field so powerful that once scissors have fallen into its prey they never escape to see the light of day again.