Questions, questions...

A while back, I posted about silly questions people ask. Well, now I have some of my own:

Where does spinach go when you cook it? I cooked a large bag of spinach this evening, and 99% of it just - disappeared.

Why do people almost invariably start up the engines of their cars before doing up their seatbelts?

How does a duvet cover always manage to eat all the acoompanying laundry in the washing machine? (And please don't tell me to do it up before washing it, because I just can't be bothered.)

Why do most of us grow out of liking sickly sweets, like those ones you can buy for a penny each? (I don't mean you, B. I know you like them, although it's probably high time you grew out of them.)

Why do children hate sprouts?

Why do women open their mouths when they put on eye make-up? (I do this, too.)

Where do colds and 'flu go in the summer?

How did the perfectly able-bodied, if decidedly odd man (he shouts a lot) at the top of our lane actually manage to persuade the authorities to let him have a disabled parking badge? (Parking round here is a nightmare, so w'ere all very indignant.)

Why is it impossible to account for all the money I have spent, within a day of going to the bank, although I've only bought boring things like washing powder and potatoes?


And why, why, why am I wasting time writing this, when it was NY Resolution no.5 not to?

And why (if you're still with me) are you reading it?