mystery cupboards reveal shocking lack of mysteries

My friend operates on stealth, sneaking to our front step to leave pineapples, avocados the size of small heads, bunches of bananas, whole fish, and bags of smoked wild pig. Nature's ninja. In the mail, postcards accumulate and tumble into my hands when I check the box, still warm from Bakersfield (more on these later).

People have a lot of love. It's pretty wonderful.

So to be a sport, I slapped myself up a bit, dumped a few cups of coffee down my throat, climbed up onto the counters in the back office, and used our janitor's mini broom to open up all the ridiculous cupboards built 15 feet up the wall. My spotter (workplace safety first!) tilted his head and watched with a smile that made me tuck my shirt into my jeans self-consciously. No dead bodies hidden in the mystery cupboards. I tap-danced across the desk and jete'd down [tottered onto a swivel chair and half fell across my janitor's head], then tore open the cupboards in the break room, where I found all the items that had been hidden from me because I am too clumsy to be trusted with them (we have a crystal punch bowl!). Threw up my hands because there still weren't any cryptic artifacts to propel us into mystery-novel antics. I did find some very old carbon paper, though. And I threw it away. Like a boss.

It felt wrong just leaving all that disappointment and dust up there, so I got into the ancient first-aid kit and put a sling-in-a-box up there for the next intrepid investigator.

Because really, if anyone breaks their ribs or collar bones at the library, I will be calling an ambulance, not throwing them a boxed sling from the 1970s. And watching it bounce off of them, because they can't catch it - broken bones and all. Odds are it will probably be me, anyway, since I'm the idiot who climbs up into cupboards while wearing wedge sandals.

And that was my week.