Stirring without a stirrer

Yes I kn

ow. You are sitting there, nodding profusely. Thinking the same thing. I mean I get the thing about missing socks; they come in pairs – eventually one of the socks decides that they’re not into a long-term commitment once freed from the plastic clips that held the relationship together for so long in the store. But teaspoons; they’re different. They’re individuals from big families, nurtured and cared for by another (human) individual who simply appreciates them for what they are.

While the plight of homeowners everywhere may fall on deaf ears in therapeutic circles, those in the know have penned the universal dilemma:

A poem by Mike Michaels in the UK:

Missing Teaspoons

Missing Teaspoons

I’ve a sorry tale to tell Its a tale of loss and woe Its a table top tragedy One you may already know

Yes, it’s very sad But please, don’t shed a tear It’s just that somehow, gradually All my teaspoons disappear

So often I’ve come home brandishing A gleaming carousel of tools for eating Knowing that the smallest will soon be vanishing And that my possession of them will be fleeting

I always start with six Apparently that’s the number for a feast And nothing seems amiss For a month or two at least

Then without any kind of warning They start to leave me one by one Until I wake one morning To find that I have none

I can keep a whole set of knives And forks present no problem My dessert spoons have nine lives But teaspoons? I always need more of them

I don’t know where they go They’re all missing in action And it casts a gloomy shadow On my scooping satisfaction

Now I know just what you’re thinking It’s something round about: ‘When he clears up after his tea drinking He accidentally throws them out’ Well that’s not the root of my conundrum I can say with certainty You see the worst thing about my problem Is that I never, ever drink tea

So perhaps my kitchen has a small black hole That attracts only spoons meant for tea Suddenly sucking them in and swallowing them whole While ignoring all other cutlery

Or maybe my attic has a nocturnal creature With a teaspoon predeliction It’s habit having the fearsome feature Of being my kitchen affliction

I’ve sought them here, I’ve sought them there I’ve sought my darned teaspoons everywhere I’ve dowsed with rods, I’ve consulted runes But still I am eluded by those Scarlet Pimperspoons

So should you ever see a hirsute man, rummaging about Please, don’t label him a loon It’s probably me, why not help me out? In my hunt for a missing teaspoon.

Beautiful Mike. Just beautiful. Thanks!

Believe it or not but an actual scientific study was conducted in Australia a couple of years ago to investigate this matter in the workplace environment. It makes sense, losing a teaspoon at home in the comfort of your own discretion you can really stir with just about anything I suppose. But, what do you do in front of colleagues or clients? Heaven forbid you start stirring your hourly cuppa with the back of a pen in front of your boss.

During their five month study 80% of the 70 teaspoons placed in a workplace went missing. It didn’t matter if they were better quality ones or not, they just went missing. After telling the workplace staff about this study, five teaspoons were recovered. The others were not. Nobody knows where they are.

You can read the full study here.

Why this blog post? Why now? Well, I can offer some rational encouragement to homeowners globally by my recent experience on this matter.

We have been able to identify the cause and culprit behind our very own cutlery crime scene. Turns out my 2-year old has been throwing the teaspoons away WITH his empty yoghurt containers. We celebrated briefly this morning when after hearing a distinct metal ‘clunk’ in the garbage bag and discovered 5 teaspoons lying lonely and afraid at the very bottom of the bag.

Be strong. Have faith. May your teaspoons also find their way back to you!

Some feedback to this blog from Twitter: