Several minutes after he came home from work, Jake turned to me and asked in a very accusative tone, "Where did you put my charger?" I was taken aback. I really had no idea where it was. I remember seeing it the night before but it was nowhere to be found. NOWHERE. I mean, not even in our trash can (which we checked twice). I suddenly was worrying I had woken up in the middle of the night and flushed it down the toilet, put it in the freezer, or placed it in the mailbox. I really wouldn't put it past me. As any of my roommates can attest, I do some strange things in my sleep.
We finally gave up after about 45 minutes of solid searching (our apartment is pretty small so that is plenty of time for a thorough search). But we were still pretty uneasy about it. I mean, there was really only two explanations: either 1) it was somewhere in our apartment (which was highly unlikely) or 2) Some thief snuck into our apartment, for the soul purpose of stealing out valuable cell phone charger (even more unlikely) .
Well, the solution was not as exciting as scenario 2, but it was kind of similar. Jake's brother, bless his heart, took the cell phone charger because he had some very important phone calls to make. He would have left a note, but he didn't think we would notice. But in the immortal words of J. Walter Weatherman, "And that's why you always leave a note."
