Lost and found

One of my personality flaws is believing I can do “just one more thing” before I leave my house. If I decide on a Friday night to buy a movie ticket for a 10:45 AM showing of “A Star is Born” the next morning, I will also believe I can wake up and:

1. Hike my usual hour-long trail;
2. Fold a load of laundry, move wet clothes into the dryer and throw dirty clothes into the washer;
3. Wash the dishes I should have washed the night before;
4. Vacuum;
5. And so on and so forth.

That is why last Saturday morning at 10:32 AM, I was hurrying down the stairs to grab my key so I could speed to the movie theater.

I reached into the outside pocket of my purse where I always keep my car key. I NEVER lose my keys because I always put them in the same place: the outside pocket of my purse.

You see where this is going.

NO KEY.

I was already sweaty from my walk and the morning chores I really didn’t have time to do and I grew more and more sweaty as I emptied my purse then ran upstairs to see if I left the key on my dresser and then out to the garage to see if I left the key on the car (I know–that makes no sense). Then I emptied my purse twice more, checked the pocket of the pants I wore to work the day before.

I could not find my key.

I told myself that lost things are almost always within inches of where you believe they are.  I either made that up or I read it somewhere (and it was a scientific study).  (Oh, here it is: Lost objects are within 18 inches of their original location.)

I asked my son if he would drive me to the theater–figuring I would work out the lost key issue later–and also called my husband (who was working) to see if I left my key in his car. (This also makes no sense.)  Just as my son came down the stairs to drive me, I lifted up my purse and found my key under it.

It was under my purse the whole time.

Lost and found.

(I sat down in my reserved movie seat two full previews before the opening of the movie even though I left my house at 10:45.)

*

In other news, I transferred from one job to another at the police department. I am now working in Records–which is about as exciting as you imagine it is. The whole situation was unexpected and maybe not exactly what I would have chosen for myself, but I am choosing to see the bright side. For one thing, I like monotonous, continuous work.  I do. It’s the sequential part of me that likes order and putting things in order. I’ll start a task at my desk, look up and two hours have passed.

I no longer have to wear an ugly uniform or work holidays. I have my very own cubicle and I can see the sky while I work if I look up from my scanning long enough. The ladies in my department are kind and I find it entertaining to work in cubicles with an all-women staff (there are less then ten of us). I’ll hear someone walk to someone’s cubicle and start talking loud enough for me to eavesdrop and then the voices drop to a murmur and that makes me laugh.

By the way, I just finished reading a terrible book which I won’t link to because what if the author came by (ha ha) and found a mean thing about her book but honestly! I was stuck reading it in my Kindle forever because I was weirdly committed to finishing it. And the ending was worse than the beginning.

My husband told me I don’t have enough time left in my life to read bad books and . . . well, that’s true but isn’t it also depressing beyond belief?  Death is coming.

Death is coming for me and I just know I will be rushing around as I slide from this life to the Great Beyond absolutely convinced I can do just one more thing before I go.

That’s why I’ll be late for my own funeral.