I have been without a morning whistle on my tea kettle for nearly a month, and although it was tough going at times, I somehow managed to survive. My morning ritual has been horribly silent. Rather than the familiar and comforting baby-scream wail of the water coming to a boil, I've had to strain my ears to catch the bland gurgle of boiling water coming from the kitchen, at which point I purse my lips together and whistle Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" or even Vicki Sue Robinson's "Turn the Beat Around." It's not the way I'd like a day to begin, but since the most crucial element of my tea pot vanished it's the best I could manage.
As you may recall, at some point last month the whistle vanished suddenly. Duncan and Winnie were in the kitchen during the abduction, Pip had gone underground and Olive, aloof and indifferent, seemed almost insulted that she was a suspect at all. No one came forward and no amount of searching yielded the victim, let alone any clues.
I'd returned home from the grocery store with an armload of food: apples and still-green bananas (exactly the way I prefer them), some lettuce, a cucumber, a single carrot, a few boxes of organic soup, beans, some fish and a king-sized jar of Nutella (for the lonely nights). While putting the produce in the crisper I noticed an empty bag at the back of the drawer. When I retrieved it I saw something heavy and dark and wondered what monstrosity had been growing forgotten and alone, biding its time in the coldest, most forlorn reaches of my home, waiting to unleash it's juicy, hairy horror upon my mundane life. I winced as I opened it, expecting to discover an angry grape tomato, or even the last bit of a kiwi, but was shocked––and elated––to find my whistle.
Somehow or another it had fallen into a bag and been deposited in the fridge. I did a little dance and hurried to each of the kids to announce their innocence. Winnie rolled over on her belly, Pip finally emerged from beneath the couch after a long month spent with the nefarious gang of dust bunnies he's been hanging with, Olive rolled her eyes and sauntered away. Only Duncan seemed relieved, which he demonstrated by dancing with me, but then he's easily impressed anyway.
I blame the corn on the cob. It was delicious but I could tell it was up to something.