The Mystery of the Missing Tweezers

If there's one thing the SJG doesn't like, it's when things go missing in the vast wasteland of my elegant estate.  So many rooms.  So many servants.  So many people to blame when I can't find something.  The other day, my tweezers vanished.  My tweezers are an important tool in the SJG Beauty Routine (patent pending).  Without my tweezers, I cease to exist.  I must have my tweezers.  There's always something that needs tweezing.  No, I'm not going to give you specifics.  You're just going to have to trust me on this.  I live to tweeze, which explains why I only have half an eyebrow at the moment.  No biggie.  It'll grow back.  So, when this coveted item disappeared from one of the eight places I stash it, I got a little panicky, a little frantic, a little loony.  I started opening drawers and cursing the Goddess of Grooming.  "Why did you take my tweezers, o Goddess of Grooming?  What are you trying to teach me? That I can go without my tweezers for a day? That not everyone is lucky enough to have a bejeweled pair of tweezers like mine?  Lesson learned. Bring them back to me, Goddess, bring them back and I'll never over-tweeze again."

Much like any of your favorite Greek tragedies, I know, there are so many, it's hard to pick just one, the Goddess didn't return my tweezers. She made me suffer. She could've put the tweezers in the freezer.  That would've made for a fun rhyme.  But she didn't do bupkis.  I was on my own.  I needed help fast.  So I made an emergency appointment with a nice shrink who only charged me $600 for the first visit. She gave me the best advice I've ever received from someone who's been to medical school.  "Look again, maybe the tweezers will show up."  Well, spank my tush and call me Charlie.  My tweezers showed up that very afternoon, in one of my many hiding places.  I couldn't wait to share the news with the man I'm currently married to, in the form of an interpretative modern dance and a declaration of unbridled joy: "Hallelujah!  I found my tweezers!  I found my tweezers!"  "Oh, sorry, were you looking for them?  I borrowed them." "What?" "I needed them."  "Why?" "To fix the sink.  It was clogged and -- " "No more. Please, I'm begging you." "But -- " "You've tarnished them.  For life."  "I didn't mean to --"  "Silence!  Get thee to Tiffany's, tout suite!  Get me new tweezers.  I'd like them engraved.  To SJG.  With Love.  Encrusted in diamonds.  A few sapphires wouldn't hurt.  No pressure.  Helpful hint.  Our anniversary's in a few weeks."