A Strange Kind of Sense

My mom called the other day, and, after saying hi, asked, "Do you know where my turkey baster is?"

After a split-second struggle with a wildly inappropriate joke (I refrained), I said, "Um. No?"

She explained. When she's in my kitchen and she's looking for something specific, she can almost always find it. So our kitchens must be organized the same way. So maybe, she said, if I remembered where my turkey baster was, I could tell her where hers was.

It makes a certain kind of sense.

Unfortunately, she'd already looked in the places I thought of. No dice. When she came over this evening to watch The Bean, I forgot to ask whether she'd found it.

When I got home, though, the stovetop had been cleaned, which I am pretty sure was not Paul's handiwork, and for which I am willing to buy her a new turkey baster every time she loses it for the rest of her days.

And, because I am not over it yet: look what else my image software can do.

I can't believe I didn't know any of these features existed. I'm not even going to tell you how long I've had this program. It's embarrassing.