Hey! I found my debit card! Where? On the kitchen counter, nestled in the folds of the pool party request form that I never used. It flew out onto the floor when I sorted through the pile of papers that had been mocking me from the counter for days now. I lost that card two weeks ago, I think.
I spent this afternoon pondering my son’s football jersey, the blue one he wears for practice. Over the weekend, I heard my husband say, “Put your jersey in the laundry room” and so that’s where I looked first. I looked through the baskets of folded laundry first, thinking maybe I didn’t notice folding it. I picked through the dirty laundry, piece by piece. Twice. Three times. I looked under his bed.
I asked my son, “Where’d you put your jersey?” And he said, “In the basket in the laundry room.” It was not there, no matter how many times I looked through the basket.
No jersey. I called my husband for advice and left a message. When he called me back, I stood and wandered with the phone to the living room . . . I looked down at two unread, still rolled-up newspapers and voila! The jersey! Still dirty, but present and accounted for.
Oh! And the missing Nintendo DS? (Did I mention that back in August?) Found. Under the 10-year old’s bed.
The effort of losing and finding things is wearing me out. I am losing my mind which is hard to do considering I carry it around in my skull at all times.