Minor Mischief, I Suspect.

Some years ago a button fell off one of my shirts, so I placed it on a chest of drawers in my bedroom meaning to sew it back on when I next washed the shirt. You now how it is - the button sat in the same position on that piece of furniture for about six months. Every night when I went to bed, I emptied the contents of my pocket onto the same chest of drawers; and every night I reminded myself that I really must sew that button back on. One day I decided to do it, and went upstairs to fetch the button. It wasn’t there.

I looked very carefully, I scratched my head, and then I went back downstairs to ponder whether I’d moved it at some time. I knew I hadn’t, so I returned to the bedroom and looked again. Still no button. Feeling utterly bemused, I repeated the exercise, only this time I removed the few articles that were on top of the furniture and felt every inch methodically. I wondered whether some optical illusion might be going on; maybe the button was there but I couldn’t see it for some reason. No; the button was definitely absent. I gave up.

When I went to bed that night, the button was back in full view where it had always been.

And then, a few weeks ago, I went into my kitchen to find a pile of dirty dishes sitting in the middle of a work surface where I never put them. Assuming I must have done so absent-mindedly, I placed them over by the sink ready for washing. The next time I went into the kitchen, they were back in the middle of the work surface.

Feel free to offer an explanation if you can. Only please don’t say ‘You only thought you’d put them by the sink.’ No; the mystery of them being out of place made me very conscious of putting them where I always put dirty dishes. I definitely moved them; and they definitely found their way back somehow.