I think my mind has slipped down into the mysterious crack of lost items. It seems I am losing my mind AND my belongings to this insufferable crack. You know the crack I’m talking about; missing socks that never come out of the dryer after they have gone in. Okay, so that one isn’t so mysterious. There must be some logical explanation for that since it happens to everyone. I just get so tired of spending half my waking hours looking for things! I’m finding out that it’s not so much that these items are actually lost. I just can’t remember what in hell I did with them.
Prime example: I went to the doggie beach this past weekend and upon returning home I couldn’t find my MP3 player, so figured it was buried deep in the sand somewhere on Huntington Beach. Not so. After searching for days, I opened my eyeglass case to find the player tucked away nice and safe-like! Cheese Louise! What good is keeping things in a safe place when you can’t remember where the safe place is?
I’m thinking one solution would be to stop walking around the house like a zombie with things in my hand. They wind up getting dropped in the most unlikely of places. Take the case of the missing Kleenex box, lost around the same time as the MP3 player. Even my husband got into the act on this one. I asked him if he had seen it, and he said no and that he thought it was weird too because he remembered me asking him which box we should keep in the living room. (Boxes have different designs on them, so I wanted to use the one that fit my color scheme.) Turns out it was hidden behind the toilet tank. Not so unlikely a place for a box of Kleenex, but still, not where I usually put them. Fortunately, this mystery was solved in about 10 minutes, so I still have most of the hair on my head.
Do I have to accept the fact that I’m just getting old and I have developed CRS like everyone else my age? I don’t care what anyone says; I’m pretty sure I coined this acronym, but I can’t remember. Besides, I’ve been suffering from CRS since my early 20s. So I can pretty much say with certainty that it is not old age! Maybe I should just cop to the old age thing, because the alternatives are not very attractive. Something must be seriously wrong with my brain!
Here’s the kicker. It used to be that I could depend on my husband to be my keeper. I guess I unconsciously picked a man 12 hears my junior just for this purpose, but guess what? He’s catching up to me in a big damn hurry! How he’s getting deaf, along with me, and he can’t remember a damn thing anymore either. A lot of good he is! Now we will just have two idiots running around the house looking for things. Can you just picture it? Hubby bellowing ‘what’ all the time, cause he doesn’t have hearing aids yet; both of us bumbling along looking for our eye glasses and various other old age necessities. Thank you God; you’re funny too!
Oh well, I guess we could hire a personal assistant and pretend he/she does really important things for us. We don’t have to tell anyone that his/her job is really finding our eyeglasses which sometimes can be found perched atop our balding heads!