Moments of complete irrational behavior reminds a usually sane person they are human.
Through the chapter’s of my life I have been a hoarder, a minimalist, a collector, a slob and emitted some OCD habits. All these phases concluded in a warm embrace of organization. However, one can become overly organized. I do not do well with losing things. I also, do not do well in admitting something is “lost.”
Naturally, being a control freak, I have a process to the find the thing I’ll never admit was “lost”. First, I go to my top 5 logical places. Next, I look in Big D’s logical places. These are very different places. If at this point the item has not been found, quietly I grow into a frantic, obsessive, tyrant on a secret mission. Never will I ask for help, that would be admitting defeat. Instead, I distract Big D with an errand to run. Once he is out of the house I have free reign to open and slam drawers without rising suspicion. Arriving home, Big D is welcomed by a frustrated wife flailing about in a house she bulldozed through. Cabinets and drawers remain open with new piles of clutter on every available surface. Now, he pity smiles at me and I vow, “I’ll never tell him I ‘lost’ it.” He tries to distract me with a game or movie. I decline, casually starting to put things back in their place. Finally, I go back to my top 5 and really search.
A habbit of mine is to misplace something temporarily every time we return from vacation. However, our most recent homecoming game of “lost” ended surprisingly.
My search simmered down, eventually, the evening drew to an end. Physically exhausted sleep eluded my thoughts. Frustrated, my mind began the battle of Crazy vs. Rational: Why can’t the dog talk? I know the dog knows where it is. I would be able to find if today was not Friday. Yes, if today was last Monday I would have found it. What purse was I using when I held the item last? Why is the supply drawer not bigger? I would have put it there if the drawer was bigger. Was it stolen? Yah, that makes sense. Someone came into our house and stole this one thing and nothing else. I wonder if Big D found it and isn’t telling me? How can he find it if you won’t tell him what it is you clearly did not lose.
I turned to him and smiled sweetly. He flipped through the TV stations. “Did you find it?” he asked.
“Find what?” I replied.
“Whatever it is you lost. Did you find it?”
“I didn’t lose anything.”
He laughed to himself, “Ok. If that’s how you want to play it?” Kissing me good nite he turned the TV off. Darkness flooded the room with silence. “Get some sleep you’ll remember where it is in the morning.” My brain battle would not accept defeat. I know where it is I just haven’t thought of where to look for it yet. To conclude the day, Crazy won.
Daylight arrived. My first thought was, “I know where it is!” Rushing out of the covers I scurried to my accessories armoire. Opened my brown and white summer purse, there it sat in the pocket I purposely left it in. A huge sigh of relief exhaled from my body involuntarily.
“You found it.” Big D stated as we sipped our morning coffee. I smiled, happy to be back at peace with myself. He continued, “You know, I always know when you lose something.” My eyebrows raised to his claim as I peered over my glasses. He smirked. “You go kind of manic. Like, an addict looking for a stash.” He laughed into his mug, ” I would know.” Looking through me he went on, “I was that addict for a better part of 30 years.” Standing up from the table he remarked, ” It’s tiring isn’t it.” I didn’t reply. It didn’t seem like a question. He kissed me on the head taking my mug for a refill. “I’m glad you found it.” I remained silent. If I said anything then I would be admitting I lost it, in more ways than one.