Lost and Found

Why am I constantly misplacing things?  If you worry about something like this, you can do what I do to research.  No, not discuss with trusted friends.  Certainly, do not go to a doctor!  No, the best thing to do is to look it up on your internet, so that A.I. can tell you what in the world is wrong with you. 

               I did that and A.I. told me that I was either “trying to do too many things at once,” or perhaps “under stress,” or that I wasn’t registering where I put things down.  Well, duh.  That didn’t really help me stop misplacing things, now did it?  Because I have always – ALWAYS – done too many things at once, I don’t embrace stress, and I never register where I put things down.

What kinds of things am I losing?  Well, unfortunately, these are important things.  For example, a few years ago I called my husband from the car in a parking space downtown.  I was frantic.  My purse was updumped all over the front seat and I was nearly in tears.  “I can’t find my phone,” I wailed.  It took a second or two, before he calmly said, “Look in your hand.”

I looked down at my empty hand and said, “There’s nothing there.”  Oh, he meant the other hand.  The one holding…the phone.

Then a couple of weeks ago, I was going to the bank and couldn’t find the check we had to deposit.  It wasn’t in my purse, or in the desk drawer, or anywhere on the counter.  I scoured the house for it, and finally in despair didn’t go to the bank. Later that day, when I was using my husband’s truck, I remembered where it was – in the viser of my car.  A poor choice of places for an important check, but I’m sure I was convinced that I would remember it was there when I needed to.

That’s fairly typical of me when I misplace things.  I vividly remember thinking, “I need to put this here so I will remember where it is when I need it.” But remembering where “here” becomes problematic.

Yesterday, it wasn’t even my fault!  I was making casseroles for a church breakfast and my hubby was helping. As I cracked eggs and threw the shells into the open garbage can, he walked behind me.  I saw something sail into the corner of the full garbage bag.  I asked him what he had tossed in there, and he looked surprised.  “Nothing,” he said.

Oh, no.  I felt my ears.  Yep, one earring on my ear and the other…gone.  I took the garbage outside and sorted through the 24 eggs shells, empty packages of cheese and ham, paper towels, coffee pods, and other assorted disgusting items.  Twice.  The second time, I found the little earring! 

I looked up what to do about this problem.  Again, excellent advice from the computer.  One suggestion was to state out loud where you are putting things as you put them down or away.  It appears I’ll be talking to myself all day long.