Imperatrix, Bully Extraordinaire

The other day I couldn’t find my tea mug. The Consort helped me look (by searching in all my recent pre-Alzheimer’s favorite forgetful places), and even working together we couldn’t find it anywhere. Now, before you say “Pshaw pshaw, mugs get lost and mugs get found. It’s no big deal,” let me show you a picture of my mug:

Arrgh! I can't! Because Blogger won't let me! Grrrrrrr.

As the lovely Vanna White Barbie can attest, it is VERY BIG (about 6.5 inches tall and 4 inches diameter). So this is not some dainty eggshell china teacup that can be easily mislaid. This is a Mother of a Mug. So where could it be? It just made no sense that something that big could continue to conceal itself from two intrepid mug-hunters.

“I think I’m going to have to ask Bendita,” I said. “Yes! Yes!” shouted the children. “If you want to,” said the Consort. (I should have wondered then about his less-than-enthused reply.)

Who is Bendita? She is a house fairy. And she helps you find things. I don’t remember where we learned about her. A few years ago, we had lost something (I can’t remember what), and until we found it we couldn’t get on with our evening. So after looking for a while, I gave up and went upstairs to take a shower, which I needed to do anyway. When I had dried off and gotten dressed, the girls ran upstairs shouting, “It worked! It worked! Bendita helped us find it!!” They explained about Bendita, in little-kid terms, and whatever they said sounded fine to me, but I quickly forgot the details (something about writing her name on a piece of paper, tossing it into the air, and looking for the paper but finding your missing item?). And we haven’t had cause to use “The Bendita Trick” again for the past 3 years.

So back to my mug. This was becoming quite a bother, so I decided that yes, I had nothing to lose, I might as well give Bendita a shot. I asked the Consort what I was supposed to do.

“Well, you write her name on a piece of paper.”
“Okay.”
“Then you fold it up.”
“Got it.”
“Then you call out ‘Bendita, I have caught you here and won’t let you go until I find my missing item!’”
“'Bendita! I have …' uh … erm … So what you’re saying is I have to take her hostage?"
“Yup.”
“…And threaten not to release her until I find my mug?”
“That’s the extent of it. But don’t forget to put the folded up piece of paper under a chair leg while you’re searching.”

Now, readers, I’d like to say that I decided not to do it. But I was missing my mug!

So I rationalized it as a National Emergency, and went through with it. But it isn’t like you find it right away, oh no. She’s a tricksy little thing, is Bendita. She makes you work for it. And while you search, you feel more and more guilty.

“Maybe I should just let her go. This is ridiculous.”

“But if you do that,” warned the Consort, “it’ll be that you went back on your word.”

“Right. With children and house fairies, you can’t ever go back on your word. You lose street cred that way.”

So I dejectedly continued searching. I felt like the worst kind of bully, holding an innocent fairy captive until I got my way. I felt dirty in my soul. And, people, I don’t know why I did it, but I opened the microwave door.

And there was my mug! Halleluiah!

Thank you, Bendita!

But I don’t think I’ll be finding things this way again.