Here's a mystery for you: Every year around the beginning of January, I carefully take down the strings of decorative lights that have been displayed for the holidays. I do not casually stuff them in a box, but wind them, like Martha Stuart would, around my elbow in careful loops, so they will be able to be unfurled in an orderly fashion next season.
But every year when I bring the box up from the cellar, they have morphed into a hopeless jumble that requires at least 30 minutes of untangling before I can hang them. Apparently there exists some preternatural force that tangles them while in storage.
I am not complaining, mind you. I'm just commenting on a domestic phenomena. Tangled Christmas lights belong in the category "things I do not understand." You know concepts like: Infinity and rules of grammar and spelling.
I'm starting to wonder of the basement is haunted by some malicious spirit. That might explain the laundry-related mysteries -- lost socks, missing handkerchiefs and other small items. And don't get me started about loose wire hangers. How come they always get tangled no matter how neatly you try to arrange them? There must be a malevolent poltergeist that causes these phenomena.
And who, or what, keeps hiding my glasses and keys?
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