Found it


You can stop the search. I appreciate the help, but I found my phone. (And I didn’t need to call it.)

A few years ago… actually, many years ago… I was going crazy looking for my phone. I checked every room of the house. I called it. I looked in jackets and pants and countless pockets. I called it again. I opened kitchen cabinets and living room drawers. I called it again. And again.

Eventually I wandered out to the car, preparing to retrace two hours of my morning errands. And for some reason, as I started moving down the driveway, I thought about where my right arm was. Not because the phone was in the armrest… but rather because next to the armrest was the cup holder. The same cup holder that I occasionally tossed my phone into and closed, since it was one of those annoyingly shaped flip-phones and if I was just going to be in the post office for a moment… well… typically no one calls me.

Today, it was under my sweatshirt on the arm of the chair. That was completely unexpected. I woke up, got dressed, and slid the phone into a pocket of my jeans. When I began looking for it, I could vividly recall moving it from a back pocket to a front pocket. The arm of a chair? That was a weird one.

I don’t often misplace things. I tend to be one of those creatures of habits, well-trained by the fewest occasions of missing remotes. I generally drop my keys and wallet into the same places when I arrive at home. And yet… it does occasionally happen.

I’m sure you have your own stories. Here’s a good one of mine…

Two or three weeks ago, I went to make a cup of coffee. I’m not against brewing a whole pot, but I’m not a coffee addict and usually I’m the only coffee drinker in the house. One cup. Maybe two. Easier to fire up the Keurig. Mug… pod… cream… sugar… brew… hold on… where’s the mug?

Just so happened the mug I thought I had grabbed matched a few others that we have. So, when I saw another in the dishwasher during my look around for it, I rolled my eyes, figured I was losing my mind, and took out another one. Over to the fridge… open the door… and…

There, next to the half and half, was my original mug with cream and sugar still in the bottom.

Again, I’m sure you have your own stories. Stories of glasses on your head… stories of plates put in the cabinets instead of the sink… stories of remotes and books and car keys and tools and more. The trick of the matter rests in one of two things (sometimes both): (1) Figuring out if you’re an idiot or really losing it, and, (2) if needed, making sure it doesn’t happen again.

My wife and I have a few weird arguments that take place on occasion. I say weird because they are really more fun than heated exchanges, and both of us contend the information involved—depending on our side of the issue—is either highly important or completely unnecessary.

You want an example? Ok…

The other day I came in from the garage. I had left an extension cord more or less stretched out (but not plugged in… never plugged in and just abandoned), and I began explaining to her that it was there for the electric starter of the snow blower. Her response, before I could even finish, was to ask me when she would ever need to be using the snow blower. (Ok then. Moving on.)

Similar back and forths involve how the remotes work to get the DVD movie to play on the television screen… where the cloth needs to be placed in the kitchen sink… and…

Let’s just say it works very much in both directions.

It’s supposed to be a benefit to us. A way to keep tabs on items we need and understand how to use the things we… well… use. What it doesn’t do is change those awkward feelings when we misplace something. Quite the joy to be looking for a coffee mug, open the fridge and mutter “idiot” to myself.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my wallet.


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