The scissors return! There’s one pair of little pink-handled ones that didn’t make it into the photo shoot and I’d bet dollars that there are even more around here. Oh yeah, the kitchen shears are missing too. I don’t mean I can’t find them. They wisely elected to stay in their assigned spot in the Small Knives Etc., kitchen utensil crock.

Way back in the dark ages when we first moved into this house, I’ll bet I might’ve moved maybe four or five pairs of scissors. Kitchen shears (not the ones I have now, I’ve lost several pairs of those along the way). Sewing scissors — I think I had two big pairs of Fiskars and maybe a pair of small embroidery scissors. And fingernail scissors.

But y’all know how it goes. You get some kids and they get old enough to be trusted with sharp instruments and things start disappearing. I remember when Lizard Breath was about three and she had a cute little pair of pajamas with paper doll style bears on it. I was in the next room and I heard her say, “It will be all right.” Of course I thought, “What will be all right?” and a few minutes later, she came to me scissors in hand, showing me the little cut she had made in her pajamas. Paper dolls were just too tempting. And here’s where we get into the twilight zone. Because I just dredged out that little pair of pajamas (see the pic) and neither the GG or I can find *any* kind of a cut or hole *anywhere*!!! I did find evidence that Mickey and his gang have been partying in the box where the pajamas were stored, overdosing on chestnuts or whatever they are, and raising a ruckus. I am *not* cleaning that up tonight. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Eradicating hantavirus is one of my favorite chores. But I *swear* I remember that pajama-cutting incident?!? Lizard, do you remember it?

Anyway, finding a pair of scissors, *any* pair of scissors gets to be a challenge. Even a pair that might not be perfectly suited to the job at hand. Oh, they may reappear a couple times a the decade when somebody (Moom, usually) decides to dredge out a bedroom or two, but eventually, it’s just a lost cause. So, knowing you are effectively throwing money down the toilet, you end up going out and buying *more* scissors. Which, in turn, get borrowed. The cycle goes on and on. Until. Everybody has left home and you have finally picked yourself up and dusted yourself off and clambered out of whatever hole you were in for 20 years. Your scissors all come home again. Scotch tape too but that’s not quite as photogenic.

I have a lot of scissors. I could outfit a girl scout troop. Or pass them out as party favors. If Eddie Scissorhands is ever in need, I can fix him right up. What I think I *will* do is put a little scissors basket or crock in every room of my house. I’ll put some pens and scotch tape and stuff in there too. Then, wherever I am, if I need scissors or whatever, I’ll have them right at hand. There will be a force field around each basket and I will program it to recognize only my DNA and if you do not have my DNA, the basket will emit a concentrated eau de skunk odor directed straight into your face. 😈

So, do y’all have any scissors? How many?

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