The Name's Krista, But You Can Call Me Sherlock

What many people do not know (or refuse to admit) about me is that I'm so observant, I'm practically Sherlock Holmes's alter ego. Now, I do not say this to boast. Oh, no, I assure you I do this in full humility. Indeed, it is only with great reluctance that I write and publish a post about my super-sleuthing skills on the World Wide Web for all to see. On that note, I'm also pretty much Batman. And I won't even mention my similarities to Clark Kent.

The other day, I had an eye appointment (I lost my glasses in an airport in Texas. It was heartbreaking, actually). Prior to that, I was the only one home since my brother and parents had departed for their daily activities, and when I departed, I left the back door unlocked. An amateur move, I admit.

When I returned home, I went into the bathroom. My superhuman senses kicked in. Something wasn't right. It was then that I realized what horrendous disturbance had caused such an imbalance in the universe.

The toilet seat was up.

Why was the toilet seat up? ("Why is the rum gone?")

Like any intellectually sound individual would deduce, I knew at that moment that I was sharing the house with a serial killer. But not just any serial killer. He was dressed in jet black from head to toe, complete with a knit beanie. He was big. Huge, with the intimidating muscles of a WWE heavy-weight champion and the height of a small dragon. I braced myself for the worst.

I literally searched the entire house. I even had "91" dialed on my keypad, and I was ready to hit that last 1 if need be. But there was no felon to be found. I had the house to myself, with the dog in his cage.

The dog. He wasn't freaking out like somebody had broken into the house. Was I just going crazy? Were my super-sleuthing skills failing me?

I went to turn on the living room light. Ah.... The light switch. Another clue. On the double-light-switch-panel-thingy, the switches were facing different directions. One was up.... and one was down. Somebody had DEFINITELY been in the house. I would never leave one switch in the up-position while its compatriot was in the down-position. I now had a hunch about who had really been in the house. A glance at the table where a FedEx-delivered box for my dad's job once had been confirmed my suspicions.

My father. He was the guilty culprit. I telephoned him an interrogation and drew a confession out of him. He had come home to pick up his box. Balance was restored to the universe.

Case closed.