Scientists have mapped the human genome, sent robots to Mars, and created phones that recognize our faces in less than a second.

Yet somehow, nobody has figured out where TV remotes disappear.

You can place the remote on the coffee table, walk into the kitchen for exactly thirty seconds, come back… and it’s gone. Not moved. Gone. As if it received a better job offer and left without saying goodbye.

The search always starts calmly.

“Has anyone seen the remote?”

Five minutes later, the entire household is lifting couch cushions like they’re searching for buried treasure. Someone checks the refrigerator because, at this point, anything is possible. Another person insists, “Nobody touched it,” which is exactly what everyone says when they definitely touched it.

Eventually, you discover three old batteries, two missing socks, a handful of popcorn, enough spare change to buy a coffee, and a receipt from four years ago.

Still no remote.

Then comes the moment of pure magic.

Someone casually sits down on the couch…

…and suddenly announces, “Oh. I was sitting on it.”

That’s it.

Thirty minutes of detective work, family arguments, and furniture rearranging—all because someone accidentally turned the remote into a seat cushion.

The funny part is that this happens to every family. It doesn’t matter if you live in a tiny apartment or a giant house. The remote obeys its own mysterious laws of physics.

Maybe there’s a secret society of TV remotes meeting behind our couches every night, laughing at us while we crawl around on the floor searching for them.

If that’s true, I just have one request:

Please return the batteries too.