The Imp Among Us

August 21, 2008
KOA CG
Middleboro, MA

I am slowly coming to the conclusion that we have a dybbuk. Or a poltergeist. Or a leprechaun. Or some other devilish spirit who has decided to go RVing with us.

I was inclined to believe that, okay, hitting the jet ski, and the boulder, and the cop car were all products of our inexperience. As were the upset of the picnic table, the little plastic figure of the child holding a flag, and several red cones on several occasions. And I accepted with my usual grace and aplomb the failure of the horn, the brake fire in our tow car, the copious leak in the corner of the bedroom, the refusal of the satellite to work, and the death of a complete set of china due to unplanned contact with the stone floor in the kitchen. I don’t even blame the pole in the closet that keeps bouncing all the clothes to the floor.

But now things are disappearing. First it was the scale, which I rely on daily to keep me honest. That stayed out of sight for two weeks, until we went to Target and bought another one that mercifully gave us each a three-pound weight loss. Unfortunately we found the digital scale and discovered a three-pound weight gain. Okay, it was five, but who’s counting.

No sooner had found the damn scale than my camera’s battery charger went missing. I remembered exactly where I had put it – not in the bag where it’s supposed to reside, but in the corner of a cabinet (another hurry-up decision, when will I learn).

When my camera died, I reached in for the charger and it was nowhere to be grabbed. Frustrated and angry with myself, I pulled every single cabinet apart. I restacked all the DVDs, books and games, none of which we’ve played yet. I refolded all the towels and washcloths, which we have used, I’m proud to say. I restacked what dishes remain and what glasses haven’t broken (I’m down from 6 to 2 wine glasses.) I repacked every single atlas, map and guide John brought along – all 62 of them. And I still haven’t found the darn charger. It’s smaller than a cigarette pack, but certainly not tiny, so why can’t I find it?

Yesterday I bought a universal charger and it took me over an hour and a half to figure out how to use all 17 parts together. Now I’m deathly afraid this too will take off for places unknown and I won’t be able to take another picture this whole trip.

Yesterday, however, sealed the deal for me. For the first time since we left, we were going out to a restaurant with another couple, so I decided to haul out the bling. I pulled my jewelry box out from its hidey-hole, and no, I won’t reveal its location, and pawed through my stash. I selected my favorite gold watch – as a matter of fact, my only gold watch – took off my $59 fake Chanel and put it in the gold watch’s slot. Then I put the jewelry box away. When I turned around, the gold watch was gone.

A complete upheaval of every drawer, every surface, every nook and every cranny was fruitless, as was a second, third and fourth search of the jewelry box, just in case. I am at an age where I don’t trust my recent memory all that much. But, still, no luck. I found nothing, nada, ninguno, nil, no, no, nanette.

Where could this favorite watch be? Hiding in a cubby with the battery charger? And are these two in communication with my errant scale, getting tips on eluding the search party?

Or have I unknowingly channeled a mischievous spirit, who is at this moment enjoying my discomfiture, charging his or her spectral camera for exactly 30 minutes according to his or her new gold watch. And all the while, smiling with impish satisfaction, because he or she hasn’t gained or lost a pound since we got in this RV.

Betty