This morning, a Saturday morning, we spent Dylan's morning sleep time on assembling his new playground toy mega-complex: This thing has a slide, steps and a swing built into it. It's really nice, unlike IKEA stuff assembly was a snitch, and eventually there'll be photos on Flickr.
Anyway, being that I am the greenie that I am, after the assembly I went to the front yard to tear the big packaging box apart so I could fit it all in our recycling bin. I used a stanley knife to cut it apart, folded the nice small bits up even more, and shoved them into the bin by using the force.
Then I started searching for the stanley knife so I could put it back in the closet with the rest of the tools. I searched here, I searched there, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I even emptied the bin to see if I was foolish enough to put it there with the torn apart packaging.
I gave up and went inside, which is when I took a snick peak at the closet and saw the stanley knife glaring back at me.
Now, what would you call an experience such as this?
Let us start by ignoring the impossible. It is dead obvious I cannot be senile enough or mentally ill enough to have forgotten that I already put the knife back in the closet.
Therefore, the only conceivable explanation is the supernatural. I argue that a miraculous teleportation took place here! God herself came down from the heavens above to relieve my Saturday morning chores duty and put the knife back in the closet for me.
No matter what imbeciles like Dawkins and Shmawkins tell you, revelation happens. And my morning experience is proof.