Declarative versus Interrogative case.

What.

It's gotten to the point that it isn't a question, so much as a fundamental statement of incomprehensibility.

Went to bed with small migraine (almost passé at this point) but having successfully served pancake birthday dinner.
Woke up at four ten, because I heard DRIP.

DRIP.

DRIP.

Marco, also awakened by the noise, sat up where he'd been cuddled against me and was staring toward the same noise: it wasn't in my head, it was over there near the door to D.B.'s closet.

DRIP.

Marco and I slipped out of bed, stalked the unidentified noise, and finally stopped at the closet door. Marco stared upward, trying to figure out its source, as I checked with my left ear that the window was still closed and my right hand that the edge of D.B.'s dresser was okay.

DRIP.

The edge of the dresser, just below hip height for me, was definitely wet. That's what was getting dripped on! "Shit!" I hissed at it, and "Let me go get a light" I whispered to Marco.

By this time, Dearly Beloved had woke up too, so I explained as I shoved my contacts into place that I thought we had a leak.

But here's the slightly weird thing: the ceiling and wall were dry, so far as I could tell.

I made one trip downstairs for the top of the tupperware cake protector, which would sound less obnoxious with each drop of water but would hold quite a bit before needing replacement. I made a second trip back downstairs for the folding stepladder, because that ceiling still looked dry and I wanted to check it by touch. D.B., meanwhile, opened his closet door -- also bone-dry -- and checked inside the closet; and the damp ceiling was, apparently, inside the closet ... despite the water I found outside the closet. Not only the door, but also the frame and wall were entirely dry.

So how did the drip get to that destination?

This was, of course, the point when I first subconsciously noted that I no longer heard the drip in question. I mulled that over while moving things out of the way in the upstairs hall so I could check the attic and roof. I'll sum that up by saying I got insulation on my bare feet for no use: nothing was even slightly damp up there, though I checked by hand as well as by sight, and I stayed up there to listen for a good five minutes.

So, now we need to quickly track down a bonded handyman to figure out how the hell the water got there and make it stop, remove the damp sheetrock and insulation and whatnot and replace them, and I guess it's a good thing we already paid for that Tucson/Disney trip or we wouldn't be going. We need a fun trip for mental health.

Meanwhile:  what the hell?  Who bent the laws of physics, and why?  (Did I mention, the floor was not wet?)