Don't Ask, Don't Tell

There's some quote regarding questions for which you really don't want to know the answer. It's something like "if you don't want to hear the answer, don't ask the question." OK, that's almost exactly what I wrote in the first sentence...obviously I'm exhausted and the one hour of gained time has now caught up with me - at the sadly early hour of 8:45 p.m. I'm attributing the exhaustion to my earlier cleaning frenzy, not the fact that I woke up at 5:30 a.m. I washed all the bakeware that doesn't fit in the dishwasher (cupcake tins, sheet cake pan, etc.) from my Thursday/Friday baking extravaganza (all in the spirit of fundraising for my kiddos' school's bake sale). I put away all the Halloween decorations. And that's a lot. To quote one of my cherub's friends who saw the pile of decor that I consolidated in the living room before boxing it all up in the 5 orange Rubbermaid totes: "Holy Halloween - that's a lot of stuff." Then I proceeded upstairs to finish cleaning up and re-organizing the boys' bedrooms. Last week-end I had the genius idea to switch Ryan's room with Alex & Owen's room. Ryan's old room is better suited for the bunkbeds Alex and Owen sleep in, plus the layout of the closet was better. And Alex and Owen's old room looks out into the backyard, which will hopefully be a bit quieter for Ryan, who sometimes hears noises that cause him to have bad dreams.
Anyway, it was during the cleaning and organizing frenzy that I came across a couple of things that caused me to pause and wonder. I wonder, but I don't really want to know the answer, because I'm afraid.
First of all, I wonder how on earth scrambled eggs ended up on the floor of Alex & Owen's bedroom. I just scrubbed the floor earlier this week, go figure! I walked in today to gather the dirty laundry and hand up a few more pictures when I noticed a tiny little bit of something. I knew it wasn't from the "I accidentally barfed in my bed, mom" incident from last week-end - because (a) we hadn't switched the rooms yet and (b) I did scrub the floor this week. I'm pretty sure the scrambled eggs were carried upstairs via a pajama shirt (or maybe socks - one of my darlings is a pretty messy and energetic eater - granted, he doesn't eat with his feet, but he's pretty wiggly so I could see how it would happen). But really? I don't want to know how scrambled eggs ended up on a bedroom floor. I just wiped it up with a Kleenex and will scrub the floor at a "later date."
I moved on to my eldest's room and was putting away a bit of laundry. Once again, I noticed his underwear drawer was empty. It seems I've been finding it like that alot lately. Yet he never tells me he has no underwear. Does that mean he finds it in the basket of clean-but-not-yet-put-away laundry? Does he wear a pair that is dirty? Does he go sans underwear? Do I really want to know? I think not.
So, here's my new philosophy: don't ask, don't tell.