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Where Did I Put My . . .
Fill in the blank!
My glasses. My cell phone. My keys. My handbag . . .
So many inanimate objects. Each one of them seeming to enjoy hiding from me.
I know there are some philosophical individuals who may ponder, “What is the secret to a happy life?”
My answer would have to be, based on many decades of experience, “The secret to a happy life is to know, with confidence, where my glasses, keys, phone, and handbag are without having to hunt for them every time!”
I wish I had a dollar, or better yet, a full-sized chocolate bar, for every time I have started a sentence with, “Where did I put my . . .”
“There’s a place for everything and everything in its place,” some annoyingly-organized person is sure to be thinking right now. What they don’t understand and don’t want to believe is that inanimate objects have a mind of their own.
Put them on the kitchen table. Return an hour later to retrieve them, and they have moved. I’d blame my cats, but I know that would (in most cases) be unfair. No, some force, or perhaps some mischievous, invisible gremlin is moving my stuff.
Just to taunt me.
Or maybe this aggravating poltergeist enjoys hearing me scrabble wearily through piles of bills, garden…
