Sunday, April 21, 2019

Physics Defiance Disorder

One evening last week (okay, early-morning), I was startled by an unidentifiable noise. You'd think by now that I wouldn't be startled by such happenings. It's no surprise that they occur. It's only a surprise as it happens. There's no predicting these incidents.

It was sometime between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m. I'd been in my OPC (Old People Chair) since 11:30, leaned back watching TV. Yet there it was. The sound of a golf ball dropping into the cup. I don't play golf, you know. I've only played three times in my life, if you don't count miniature golf. But I know that sound. I've heard it on TV. Not that I watch golf on TV. That's just a notch above hockey, and below NASCAR.

Hm. There's no golf course in my basement. No golf balls or clubs. Certainly no 18 holes, or even one, so no cups built into my basement press-down tile over concrete floor. The strangeness of this sound made me sit up straighter in my recliner. It was not the usual footsteps above, or bed-turning, or heavy objects dropping into a bathtub.

The sound came from the basement for sure. Over past the 13 steps to the living room. Maybe in the area between Genius's old desk, and the NASCAR bathroom. Towards my office.

Do you think I got up to go investigate? NOT-HEAVEN, NO! I just sat there, slightly more upright, frozen, waiting for it to happen again, or for something even more heinous to occur. It did not. That was it. An isolated noise incident.

I'd pretty much forgotten about that noise when I descended to my dark basement lair the next day. I flipped on the light as I entered my office, and saw disarray.

On the floor were three empty Diet Coke bottles, and some thin cellophane that had held an 8-pack of mini cereal boxes together. Huh. That was curious.

Let the record show that I have a large kitchen trash bag in my office. Not in an actual wastebasket. Just a loose trash bag, the black kind with a blue drawstring top. It sits on an open box next to my good rolly chair. The one that's too long for my legs, that I've parked next to one of my bookshelves. The box sits on another box of stuff from school. It's about the height of the seat of my good rolly chair. I dispose of trash as needed, and when the bag is full, I carry it upstairs and out to the dumpster.

I just took out the trash last week. The new trash bag had some empty mini cereal boxes in it, and some empty Diet Coke bottles. It was nowhere near full. Maybe 1/6 as full as it was going to be when it was time to go to the dumpster again. Every night, before I go out to my OPC, I put my empty Diet Coke bottle in that trash bag. I'd done so at 11:30.

Let the record further show that I shake the bottle down into the bottom of the trash bag. It is not unstable. The stuff in the bottom sits in the hollow of the not-quite-empty box. I lay the top of the bag back down on itself.

Somehow, the open top of the bag had leaned itself over, and ejected three empty Diet Coke bottles, and that thin cellophane wrapper. Which you might think would stick to the sides of the black plastic trash bag with static.

I still can't figure out how THREE Diet Coke bottles made ONE noise, and didn't bounce on the tile floor.

14 comments:

  1. Perhaps a raccoon is living in your dark basement lair somewhere.

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    1. Oh, pshaw! You know a raccoon would have dropped from a ceiling beam onto my OPC-sleeping face already!

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  2. I am familiar with Diet Coke bottles, as you know. I made an ottoman for Kevin with 8 of them, some cardboard, and a nice thick piece of foam padding, then covered it all in some upholstery fabric. He loves it, but he loves anything I do. Oh, sorry we were talking about the bottles making their way out of the bag and onto the floor. A mouse? A squirrel? But you would hear the rustling of little creature feet …. I give up.

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    1. Hick should contract you to make furniture for his $5000 house! It has been a few years since we had a critter bigger than a millipede in the basement. Rustling is one sound I haven't been hearing.

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  3. Diet Coke containers end up in the recycling. But HOW yours made it to the trash. And 3 miniature cereal boxes? Now, that is just plain weird.

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    1. Recycling around here would be using those bottles for an ottoman, like industrious fellow-Missouri gal Kathy. I haven't had any previous issues with my loosely-bagged trash, which has been collected that way for years. I don't know why it has revolted and escaped.

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  4. I think a plastic bottle might make that golf ball sound, however how three fell out is a puzzle. I might think about restoring a $5000 home and changing residence...forget it, no one could find a $5000 home, especially not one with a shed and creek-water view.

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    1. As the most knowledgeable golf expert in my acquaintance, I welcome your analysis of the sound. I am trying to convince myself that all three bottles hit the tile at the exact same second. The lack of a bounce is more difficult to convince.

      Heh, heh! Diet Coke bottles that move on their own are not enough to drive me out of my lair. If only there was such a new real estate option as you mention. What an imagination you have!

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  5. Try dropping the three coke bottles all at once. I bet they sound NOTHING like a golf ball landing in a cup. the mystery deepens....(evil laugh)

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    1. Dang it! I had almost convinced myself that such a scenario was possible!

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  6. SSSSSSSister there is a snake in your dark lair. That's all I can come up with if you want a logical reason. But you and I both know you are not alone.

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    1. No! I hadn't considered a snake. I'm not afraid of snakes, but I don't want to share my lair with one. Now I'm imagining a huge python lurking under my desk.

      Yes, I rarely feel alone in the basement. Last night there was more upstairs activity. I wonder what message I'm supposed to get from these communications. Also, the light over Genius's old desk has been burned out for a couple weeks, but yesterday it was on again. We both know that Hick didn't spontaneously change the bulb!

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  7. Ghosts, have you thought of ghosts? I love diet coke and my idea of hell is to be stuck in a room with diet coke machines and my quarters just keep falling through.

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    1. Yes, I HAVE thought of ghosts, since unusual things have been happening since Hick built our house and we moved in. I try to explain these things logically, though, so I don't go crazy. CraziER.

      I prefer my Diet Coke in the 44 oz fountain variety every day, but I add 12 bottled ounces to it at night, after it has weakened throughout the day. For me, Not-Heaven is when the fountain sputters and starts dispensing clear liquid!

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