Detective Mom and the Mysterious Case of the Missing Beans

Earlier this week I had to clean out the chest freezer a bit to have room to flash freeze the blueberries.  One of the things I removed at the time was a baking dish full of refried beans. 

Periodically during the course of the week, I have wondered what I did with those beans. 

They certainly are not in the upstairs fridge. 

The question that kept tickling in the back of my mind was, "Did I put the beans in the basement fridge or leave them sitting somewhere within arms' reach of the chest freezer?" 

About a day after I took them out, I remembered them.  "Oh, good thing I remembered them now, thought I.  "They will still be thawing and therefore useable." 

But at the time I had this thought, my hands were occupied with fixing that days' supper. 

"John, run to the basement and see if you can find a baking dish of refried beans anywhere."

John looked at me as if to ask, "The basement's a pretty big place, Mom.  Anything more specific."

So I continued, "It would either be in the basement fridge, or sitting among the heaps and boxes and shelves nearby."

and then I immediately forgot about it. 

Until later that night.  "John, what did you find out about those beans?" asked I.

"They aren't anywhere, Mom." 

"Hmmm," thought I.  "Hopefully they are in the fridge and he just didn't recognize them as beans."

and then I immediately forgot about it. 

Until yesterday.  I remembered them briefly at some point in the afternoon, but not long enough to check on them. 

This morning, I checked myself.  I wanted to use the missing beans for supper and was so hoping I'd find them in the fridge. 

With a little bit of fear and trepidation, I opened the fridge. 

No beans.

"Perhaps I put them back in the freezer," I thought, still feeling somewhat hopeful.

With a little bit of fear and trepidation, I opened the freezer.

No beans. 

With much fear and trepidation, I scanned the the heaps and boxes and shelves nearby.  No beans did I find. 

By that time, I confess, I was a bit frantic.  Where in the basement would I find a baking dish of spoiling beans?  And more worrisome yet, when?  How long would they sit spoiling before I happened on them in some strange and mysterious nook or cranny?

In one last desperate attempt to find the beans, I turned to the further side of the room. 

And there they sat.  Among the painting stuffs.  Balanced carefully atop the Blueberry Grove semi-gloss. 

And balanced smoothly atop the beans, the somewhat discolored film of some unidentified colonization.