I remembered that a local newspaper columnist wrote on exactly this topic:
Here's the gist of it:
"Far from the metaphysical, my question will be one that has plagued me my entire life and has become the great unknown mystery in my household. Where did all the scissors go?
Where indeed? It is a constant cry in my humble abode, and it is often followed with the standard imponderables, "Who used them last?" "Where did you leave them?" "Why can't you people put things back where they belong?" and, my favorite, "Well, they just didn't get up and wander off all by themselves."
To declare my innocence, let me just say that I rarely use scissors. I am more of a rip and tear sort of a guy. If God had intended us to use scissors, why did he give us teeth? Ooh, I am going to add that to my list of afterlife questions.
My wife and daughters are the scissors users in my house. So it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that they are also the scissors misplacers. At least, for the time being, I always know where my teeth are.
A few years ago, I became so fed up with the scissors situations that I increased the scissors-to-household-member ratio to 3-1. I found a scissors bin at a local drugstore that was having a scissors sale. Three pairs of different sizes for a buck. So I stocked up. Yep, three pairs of scissors for each person in our house. Since I don't use scissors, that left an extra three pairs as floater scissors. I placed a pair in every known drawer in the house, hoping I would never hear the scissors question again.
It worked. For a while. I didn't hear the scissors question for months. Then, one day, the cry of, "Has anyone seen the scissors?" came from the front room.
Seriously? Fifteen pairs of scissors in this house and you can't find even one pair? I helped look. Sure enough, there were none to be found."
Read more: http://www.mysanantonio.com/life/life_columnists/michael_orourke/article/Pondering-the-most-cutting-of-questions-957126.php#ixzz1SYoyZRNA