First it was the Dido CD(s) a few weeks ago, and now it's V8...
My mom bought a six pack of V8 for Wesley to get him through the week until she could get to Sam's Club and buy in bulk like she usually does. She bought it on Saturday and says she left it in front of the black chair by his computer. He was out of town, in Baltimore, and when he got back Monday night he says the V8 wasn't there.
I didn't even know about it until tonight. Dad didn't move it. Wesley wasn't here to have moved it, and didn't even know of its existence until Mom asked if he had gotten it.
There are two options here. The first option: there is something or someone in the house without our knowledge, who is moving or taking our stuff. The horror-story-writer part of me subscribes to this theory. In fact, after Mom had said goodnight and gone into her room, closing the door behind her, I stood for a moment on the silent upstairs landing and whispered: "I know you're there. I'm going to find you. I will."
(Yeah, melodrama. I know.)
But I would rather believe that creepy thought than the alternative: that my mother is slowly losing her memory or her mind...