“I don’t understand it,” Ethyl Esther mumbled, rummaging through a kitchen drawer. “I’ll never understand it.” she wailed shaking the drawer upside down.
Cooking spoons and forks tumbled all over the counter and onto the floor while Ethyl Esther plowed her way through shelves of skillets and soup pots.
“HAY!” Rude stuck his head through the swinging door. “What the hell is going on out here?”
Ethyl Esther ran her hands across her temples, leaving her hair standing at angles to her face. “Oh, I’m just loosing my mind,” she cried.
“That happened a long time ago, Ethyl. You got nothing to worry about.”
Ethyl Esther put her hands on her hips. “That’s just mean,” she said with a frown.
“Yeah, okay. Sorry or whatever.”
In her own way, Ethyl Esther ruled the world around her. After raising nine children she considered any person under sixty as potential descendent. She had clear standards and expectations as to behavior, and she had begun to ingrain Rude with the, as yet not fully accepted, idea of apologies.
“So what’s with all the racket?” he said.
“It’s my measuring cups, the ones I just got when I went to Whitefish last month. THEY’RE GONE! They were here and now they’re not!”
“Okay, look, you probably just put them somewhere and forgot. Did you check in that suitcase you call a purse? Or maybe you took them home by mistake.”
“No, no, none of that. They were here when I went home and now they’ve disappeared.”
“Well stuff doesn’t just disappear on its own, there’s got to be some kind of explanation, or reason, or something.”
Ethyl Esther took in a shuddering breath, but straightened her spine in resolution. “Yes,” she grumbled. “There’s some explanation, and I’m gonna find out what it is.”
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