My Doormat Might Be Alive: True Story

A couple months ago, I stepped out of my apartment and something felt wrong. I tapped my feet and  listened to them echo on the bare floor.

My doormat was gone.

I thought immediately of that dumb criminal justice commercial where a masked man sneaks up and steals this guy’s doormat, and then the guy opens his door, looks down, and goes, “What the heck??” I, also, thought, “What the heck??” I knelt down and drew a rectangular chalk outline where my doormat had been.  Just like the guy in the commercial.

I didn’t really care that the thing was gone, I just couldn’t imagine why someone would take it.  It wasn’t anything special or funny.  It was just green and navy stripes.  It didn’t even say ‘Welcome’, for crying out loud. Maybe somebody had spilled something on it and decided to wash it for me. I couldn’t imagine that anyone around here would be that considerate though.

Weeks passed, and eventually I forgot that I’d ever had a doormat.

Today, I opened my door to find that my doormat had returned.

My doormat.  Returned months after its disappearance.  Wtf?  It seems so much cooler now, like a college kid who’s gone backpacking around Europe for a summer and come back with a new perspective on life.

My doormat has a story to tell.  I wish I spoke doormat.

Who fucking took my doormat? And, more importantly, why did they bring it back??

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Filed under The Great Mysteries of Life

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