Streak Free

Sometimes, I write about nothing, as I have, obviously, nothing to write about.

But not for this post.

Oh no.

I have nothing to write about that is really something.

It is, however, another quick tale from my Inner Scientist’s laboratory. Or, as it’s known to you and me, my bathroom.

I was conjuring up an invisibility potion the other day. I don’t know whether you have noticed, or even heard, lately, but scientists are a cat’s whisker away from inventing a coat of invisibility. A cloak that bends light around the wearer, so they will not be seen walking in the middle of a busy street.

They have already invented a cloak that provides partial invisibility. When I saw it, what seems like centuries ago, it looked very heavy as it was made of what appeared to be hundreds of mirrors. You had the impression that you could see through the wearer, but you could still SEE the wearer at the same time (not counting the head, hands and legs that were completely solid all of the time!). Partly seeing some invisible person is still seeing them in my book, so there is still some work to be done.

So, I was in my bathroom blending water with lemons and sprout leaves. Don’t ask me where I get these ideas from, they just ‘appear’ to me! I added some salt, and I noticed the end of the wooden spoon disappear.

To be honest, I actually started out trying to come up with a glass cleaner that would leave a streak-free shine and an all-day-long lemony smell, and not a formula for invisibility; but as usual, I’d gotten something wrong.

As soon as I removed the spoon from the liquid, and shook it ‘dry’, it appeared whole again. I popped it back into the liquid and I was left holding only the handle.

I urgently needed to bottle this marvellous mixture, so dropped the spoon into the bucket and ran out of the bathroom, all the way to the kitchen to look for suitable bottles.

By the time I had returned to the bathroom, bottle in hand, the bucket had disappeared. Luckily, I remembered where I had left it, but if I had forgotten the nothing where the part of the bath had been was a good clue as well.

I reached out to lift the bucket, but misjudged its size and position, and I knocked it. I heard it fall to the floor, splashing its contents everywhere. I heard the wooded spoon land, and then saw the handle start to reappear… just as the bathroom floor started to fade away.

Then, part of the bathroom wall faded… and then, my right foot.

I couldn’t believe it.

How could I use the bathroom when there wasn’t a floor? It wasn’t as though I could see below the floor… or that the floor was a dark hole or anything… it was just not there. There wasn’t anything there. Nothing.

My right foot was also part of the nothing, but I started to shake my leg frantically, similar to how I dance sometimes, and it started to reappear. I could see through my shoe (and foot!) in a similar way to how I could see through those people in their invisible cloaks.   

Eventually, everywhere dried off, and became visible again.

Apart from the bucket, that is, which now looks like a bucket from the outside, but inside there’s a huge invisible stain. It gives new meaning to one of my favourite songs of all time, ‘There’s a hole in my bucket’!

Can you imagine the streak-free shine I would have been able to sell if I had got my potion right? Ah well, back to the drawing board!