“Honey, I am home!” George yells as he barges through the back door. After a hard day’s work, he was ready for Wanda to bring him his slippers and a martini, if she could find some, that is. Having just moved into their new residence on Saturday, Wanda may not have unpacked the spirits. Surely, she uncovered the whereabouts of his slippers by now. She had had all day.

“Welcome home, George,” Wanda lavishes kisses on her husband’s cheek and totes a brand-new pair of leather slippers. “Sit down, honey, and tell me of today’s happenings.”

The couple enters the living room, ready to relax for a few moments while the pot roast finishes its baking.

“Where is the furniture, Wanda? You didn’t give it away so you could order that new set you have your eye on, did you?”

“No, George. It was here a couple hours ago. Where could it have gone? No one has been here except me!”

The twosome looks all around. No furniture is situated in the room. None. No sign of it anywhere.