A suspicious day

When Rachael and I got home from choir, I was completely knackered. I had cleaned house all morning, gone to work in the Family Kitchen, and then choir practice. Often at the Family Kitchen, we take home little treats, or foods that there is too much of. Once I brought home some grapes and they were the best I had ever eaten. Another time, Rebecca and I got a posh apricot cake like thing that everyone else rejected. It was delicious. Often we bring home nice breads. This time I got a little packet of lovely cookies. I carefully hid them from family and friends so that I could secretly feast on them at my midnight snack. When I got home from choir, I changed into my jammies, made myself a nice cup of tea, got my cookies out of my Family Kitchen bag, and headed to bed, happy as a clam, and prepared for a soothing experience after a very tiring day. On the way to bed, I spilled my tea, and remembered that I had not taken Margaret for her walkies. Rats! I pulled Margaret and myself together, and we went out. When I returned, my cookies were nowhere to be found. I looked upstairs and down. I suspected Margaret and Rachael, but Rachael would not have done such a thing, especially since she was sympathetic about my bad day and my consequent grumpy mood. Margaret, on the other hand, would gladly have done such a thing. But she usually leaves evidence, and she is pretty transparent if she has been naughty. Sometimes we come home, and she is cringing guiltily, and we have to look (usually not far) for the bad thing she did. She was not acting guilty at all. Nor was she licking her chops, and there was no cookie crumb debris scattered about. Rachael denied all knowledge of my cookies. I looked and looked and they were nowhere. So I sadly toasted an English muffin and went to bed. In the morning, I looked some more. I prayed to St. Anthony, and he instructed me to go look in the little cabinet in my bedroom. Sometimes I put food there when I have to leave the room, and don’t want Margaret who is ever vigilant about unattended food, to eat it. There were my cookies. I was sure I had looked there last evening and didn’t see them. I must have unthinkingly put them there to preserve them from Maria (also ever vigilant) while Margaret and I went out. Well, all is well, because I will have a yummy midnight snack tonight.