Lost things
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I have lost my husband’s camera. And not just any camera, either. The digital 8 megapixel Cannon Camera that was purchased by the Police Department for official use during search and seizure. I am soooooo hosed if I don’t find it.
What was I using it for, you ask? In place of my camera, which is also lost.
I seem to have a habit of losing and misplacing items. Don’t loan me anything! Just ask my cousin, Melanie, who never got her “Pride and Prejudice” DVD back. Or the local library, who is still missing a copy of “Moo, Baa, La La.”
I am sure it is right in front of my face. I just need someone else’s eyes to point that out. Like when I was at the Dollar Tree yesterday and spent ten minutes examining, reading, and re-reading the package of some flameless tea light candles. I finally asked the clerk, “Do you know if these lights have batteries included?” She took the package, gave it the once over, and handed it back pointing to the “Batteries Included” sign on the front in big bold print.
My co-workers can testify to my lack of observation. One night at work, I lost my car keys at the end of the shift. I tore that place apart looking for them. I was so tired, and I just wanted to leave. However, that’s hard to do when you can’t find your car keys. My friend, Tara, even found a set of keys and proclaimed, “I found your keys! Let’s blow this joint!” I raced upstairs, only to deflate when I looked at them and realized they were completely unfamiliar. Convinced someone was playing a really cruel joke on me, I had her take me to my mother-in-law’s house (about 30 min out of her way), had my MIL drive me to the city my hubby works in so I could get a spare key to my house and car, and then to work to pick up my car. By nine o’clock I had just gotten on the interstate, complete with an extremely tired and irritable baby in the backseat, when I got a call from work. “We found your keys!” Hallelujah! I raced back to work only to discover that they had found the same set of keys Tara had swung inches from my face earlier. I wanted to cry and it was written all over my face.
“But these keys don’t belong to anybody else,” said the charge nurse, eyeing me like I had lost my mind. “They have to be yours.” I looked closer. They did have a remote that was the same make as my car. And even weirder, the house key was engraved with our lot number. Maybe I HAD lost my mind. “At this point, I don’t know if they are my keys, or if I would even recognize my keys if I saw them, but I’ll take them anyway.”
Surprise, surprise…when I got downstairs to my car and hit the unlock button, my lights came on.
I don’t know why I am so forgetful, or why I consistently misplace things, or why I can’t find them even when they are in plain sight. It is very frustrating! It’s probably because I need to get more organized. Can you hire people to organize your whole life? That’s what I need. Screw the Container Store. I need a personal assistant. Someone to keep track of when the bills are due, where I put Hannah’s other shoe, and to memorize the instructions on how to work the DVR.
As for my husband’s camera, he keeps calling wondering if I have found it yet. “I haven’t had time to look,” has been my reply. But that’s a lie. I have torn this house inside out and still can’t find it. I just don’t want him to panic. He would be in big trouble at work if we don’t find it.
I am sure that tomorrow when he is off work, he will find it somewhere that I have searched a hundred times and look at me with that ‘have you lost your mind’ look. A look that I will graciously return because he knows me well enough to know that he can’t trust me with the safe keeping of anything important.
Well, except our child, that is. And sometimes, that’s even a stretch…
