Proof of Gnomes

I think I have proof that gnomes exist. Further, I believe I now have proof that my house has a small infestation of them.

For years, small foodstuffs or treats would frequently disappear at a rate higher than could be accounted for by the collective consumption or recollections of the two residents that the USPS knows to live here. I used to refer to the frequent, premature disappearance of Poptarts as being the fault of "Poptart gnomes". And, by this reference, I meant "Donna".

I mean, if you've ever lived or operated in any kind of shared-refrigerator/pantry environment, you're, no doubt, familiar with unexplained disappearances. Hell, it's a phenomena that's enshrined in the various Internet "passive aggressive notes" sites.

Today... Today was a bit different.

Saturday evening, after taking the last of my prescription meds for the day, I refill my weekly pill-minder. The current pill complement is: four Keppra, one Diovan, one vitamin E complex and two vitamin B6 complex capsules.

Last Saturday evening, I opened a new bottle of Vitamin E and a new bottle of vitamin B6. The bottle of vitamin E complex contained thirty pills. Both of the vitamin bottles were notable by the severity of their consumer saftey protections: "childproof" capped bottle coated in shirnkrap; mouth of the bottle (once you've removed the shrink-wrap and the childproof cap) covered with a layer of plastic/foil; neck of the bottle stuffed with a giant wad of cotton (that only seemed to come out in clumps). Truly, opening these bottles was a memorable experience.

A little while ago, I went to perform my weekly ritual. All was going well - or as well as can be expected - until I reached the bottle of vitamin E. The shrinkwrap was in it's previously compromised state. The cap was still "childproof". However, upon removing that cap, the protective plastic/foil was back in place over the mouth of the bottle. This left me somewhat perplexed. Questioning my sanity, I took the bottle out to Donna (who was in the dining room enjoying a book or magazine or something). She agreed that I was not imagining that there was foil there. She proceeded to remove the foil. Inside, there was no wad of clumpy cotton. Curious, she dumped out all of the pills and counted them: there were twenty-three - thus confirming my memory of having removed and consumed seven the week prior.

The best I can guess is that, since we've not had Poptarts in the house in a couple of months, the gnomes got bored and/or irritated and decided to play a prank.