I’ve Been Robbed!
Some son of a bitch stole my bed sheet. I know you’re thinking that I’m being absurd, or maybe setting up for some labored “joke”, but it’s the God’s honest truth. Somewhere about a year and a half ago I was unable to find one of my sheets. It was probably my favorite one, classy pattern and an admirably high thread count, and totally missing. I looked all over for it, nothing. How do you lose a sheet? They’re pretty big, it’s not like losing a sock or t-shirt.
Every few weeks I would look again, confused about where it could have gone, where I could have put it. When I declared, jokingly, that it had been stolen people would respond with what I believed, that it was simply misplaced, though a co-worker helpfully suggested that maybe it got tangled up in a sock. Anyway, every so often I would go the shelf where I kept my other linens and look through them thinking that I would find it crumpled up behind the others. Nothing, ever. So, in time I forgot about it and moved on with my life.
Tonight I found it. I went down to the basement to do some laundry and after loading up the machine (how degrading is it that I have to do my own laundry) saw my sheet half sticking out of the garbage can in the laundry room. No, it was not the same pattern but a different sheet. It was the very same. There was a unique stain on my sheet from a leaky pen — and I mean exactly that and nothing else–that was not so big that I had to get rid of it but big enough to be noticed and remembered. And there it was. The sheet was worn out, had a couple of small tears and looked a bit worse for the wear, but it was absolutely mine. Someone had stolen it out of my laundry and taken it for themselves. What a god damn cocksucker.
Oddly, I don’t feel angry. A little relieved that it wasn’t some brain malfunction on my part, but not all that angry. And sheets are expensive!
I wish I could figure out who did this. I thought every body loved me.