I noticed a soap wrapper in the waste paper basket in the bathroom when I got home this afternoon. Curious.
It’s not that I don’t use soap. It’s that I don’t use that kind of soap anymore. And that there’s already a nearly whole bar of soap in the shower. And there’s liquid soap on the sink.
In my head I thought, “Oh, well! At least they ain’t still here!” in a Butterfly McQueen voice.
I might should have considered it further, but really, what am I going to do about it? The house has a security system. Nothing seems to be missing. The dog is still here.
And then I remembered.
I read a lot and I’m naturally curious. If I’m looking up one word in the dictionary, I tend to end up reading the whole page. If I’m reading a blog or a news story, I look up other things.
One blogger I read sometimes mentioned that she’d been having Restless Legs Syndrome lately and was having to get out of bed and stomp around and what have you, and that she’d heard about putting a bar of soap under the fitted sheet, and had finally tried it, and against all reason it worked.
Then I had to read the comments to her post, and all these people had tried it and it had worked for them too! And then I had to Google it and do you know there are over 500 entries about that soap thing?
But all that’s not what I remembered.
What I remembered was that in the ridiculous hours of this morning, I was awakened by a horrific cramp in my left calf that I couldn’t rub out.
I got out of my bed and rooted around in the bathroom closet for a bar of soap and unmade the bed so I could get that bar of soap in there. At 2:38 in the ayem.
And then I went back to bed and was troubled no more.
And now there is a bar of soap in my bed. I think I’ll leave it for the cleaning lady to puzzle over.