An interesting hook to a mystery

Some things cannot be explained. There are certain happenings, instances and observations that go far beyond the feeble ability of man to understand. Sure, we try, but there is no final resolution for what is, ultimately, unanswerable and infinitely frustrating.

As a preface to my unveiling of a recent event in my life that unquestionably fits in the above-mentioned category, I shall present a few examples for you, dear reader, to ponder. I do not wish that you do so incessantly, but there is really no other way to state the following comparisons which I deem similarly unexplained and therefore the equivalent of a happening which I alone had the untimely misfortune of experiencing. Should Facebook, Twitter and Google overload and crash due to a fruitless search for answers, it will not be my fault.

I know you are asking yourself, what the heck is this loopy nutball writing about now?

My response is, do you know where the universe ends? What came first, the chicken or the egg? Where is Jimmy Hoffa buried? Will the Minnesota Vikings ever win again?

Only if you can definitively answer those four often-asked questions, provided you have not already exploded in frustration and shredded these pages, should you even attempt to offer a plausible explanation for the entirely unexplained event that I am about to reveal.

A few days past, upon leaving my home, I removed a hooded sweatshirt that had been hanging from one of a series of pegs located on the wall behind my front door. This I had done numerous times previously without any noteworthy occurrence. This day though, would be quite different.

When I returned home, which was now shortly after the sun had disappeared and the dark of night was beginning, I opened the door, removed the above mentioned sweatshirt and hung it by the hood on the same peg from which it came a few hours earlier. At least I thought I had.

When I turned on an interior light I was surprised to see the sweatshirt lying on the entryway floor beneath the row of pegs. Quite naturally, I picked it up, shook it off and laughed at my incompetence in accomplishing such a simple task as hanging up a sweatshirt on a peg. It was only then that I learned the reason why. The peg was missing.

As you have already concluded, dear reader, the peg must have fallen out when I grabbed the sweatshirt and it would simply be lying nearby. Aha! So wrong you are!

I searched the area beneath the now-empty hole where the missing peg had faithfully resided and served for a variety of outerwear for many months. I did not find it. I expanded the search to the entire room, underneath every possible hiding place and, eventually, the entire home. It was gone! Vanished! Disappeared!

Did I file a missing peg report? No, not this guy. I searched my yard, patio area even though I was never out there that day, driveway and my vehicle. These kinds of things drive me crazy, as I suspect they may do to you too, so you can understand my relentless search that expanded far beyond what most people would consider “normal” behavior.

I searched the same places more than once, thinking that perhaps I had gone blind or had somehow lost consciousness during my initial scrutiny. All effort was fruitless. I didn’t find Jimmy Hoffa either. I couldn’t think of anything else for several hours. Sleep was impossible.

My best conclusion was that the peg had somehow bounced across the floor and was consumed by one of my dogs. They have no history of peg eating of which I am aware, but no other explanation was even remotely plausible. I stared at the three dogs for a lengthy period of time, seeking to ascertain the slightest sign of guilt from any of them. They are clever, I thought, since they were impossible to read other than they were staring at me with that “our owner has gone nuts” look.

In the following days, I attempted to proceed normally, but I was constantly haunted by this Rubik’s Cube of a dilemma. Where was that stupid peg? Then came a snow day. Great, I thought, if the peg somehow got outdoors I’ll never have a chance of finding it until spring at the earliest. That thought was unbearable.

The snow began early in the afternoon. By the time I returned home from work it was necessary to use the windshield wipers numerous times, which I did without incident. The following morning, when an ice scraper and brush was needed to clean the same windshield, that darned peg miraculously appeared. It was lodged against a windshield wiper.

Wonderful! Mystery solved! No, not quite.

While I was delighted to have that AWOL peg back, now secure in its proper place with Gorilla glue, I find it difficult to quit thinking about how that peg arrived at the place it was found. As you can clearly see, my once-missing coat peg now joins the list of other confounding and unexplained mysteries that continually trouble mankind.

Please, dear reader, do not find me at fault for your lack of sleep and concentration in the coming days due to my revelation and your tireless and involuntary efforts to remedy this mystery. Rather, deliberate over simpler questions like the chicken or the egg. Your life will be far less confusing.