Historical November–December 2018 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Where did I put that? is probably the question that I have asked most in my life. Misplaced, left, lost, and forgotten haunt me. Sure, there are other high contestant questions that plague me, too.
I often wonder Does anyone really pay that much for a parking space? How can you eat that? and We elected him??? And there are some questions that I’ve never asked, such as How many calories are in this tasty muffin and chocolate syrup delicacy, sitting astride a hunk of ice cream?
I don’t ask because I’m fortunate enough to have been born a svelte ectomorph, with a high metabolism. (To readers who know me, this month’s article is being guest-written.) I also never ask Does this tie go with that shirt?
I mean, who cares and why bother?
I consider articles of clothing as distinct and autonomous; they only need to match themselves. I’ll start thinking about coordinating my clothing during next MO solar eclipse or beginning of the Delmar Trolley, whichever comes first.
But Where did I put that? is embedded on the inside of my eyelids and across the top of my corpus callosum. I’ve been losing things for as long as I can remember.
To be fair to myself (something I do very well), my misplacement is due to heredity. Both of my parents constantly lost things, too.
My dad lost a lot of money – several times. Once he and his partner, Otto, purchased a fleet of boats to bring bananas from Honduras to the U.S. to sell, planning to undercut Chiquita, but the boats were all sunk in a hurricane.
My dad and Otto each mistakenly assumed that the other guy had bought insurance. Oh well.
As far my mom, she once lost me, even though I didn’t feel lost.
We were at one of those new-fangled inventions called a shopping mall (yes, dear reader, I am that old), and I wandered into a book store.
I was a happy camper and embedded reader while she was frantically searching the mall, looking for me, I learned later. Unlike the banana boats, I was found safe and sound.
I constantly misplaced things in my childhood.
I remember my mom being really upset with me because I lost my winter jacket.
It was snowing when I left the house and snowing when I came home; the only thing that changed was that I returned without a jacket.
I still am not sure what happened.
I do have some vague memory of cheap wine and a bonfire. Rarely did I make it to school with the full complement of books, papers, and pencil.
My high school homework was left at the kitchen table so often that in two courses, I received a grade of D, while the table got a C+. By the time I was a senior, I had mastered a technique to avoid this: After completing my homework, I nicely folded it and placed it inside my shoes. That way I couldn’t forget it the next morning as I finished dressing and headed out of the house. Yeah, the papers were wrinkled and had a livedin smell, but at least they weren’t lost. (This is another reason why we should raise teachers’ pay.) I never lost my door key because I wore it around my neck on a long shoestring.
My car keys, however, were a different matter. For a while, I assumed that they were living objects, capable of moving on their own. How else to explain that they were never where I left them?
I was often late in my teenage years because I couldn’t find my keys. Wise man that I was, this changed once I got a job.
I purchased several sets of keys and placed them around the house and under the floormat in the car. Habits change slowly, though, so I needed to replenish my key supply every six months or so. That became expensive but it was better than being late. Now, as a semi-youthful adult, I still lose things but the things are different. Losing my recollection about medication is a big problem.
Most mornings I ask myself: Did I take my pills?
I realize that younger readers may not see this as a problem, but wait, you’ll get there too. At 10am, it’s difficult to remember if you took today’s pills at 7am.
I initially tried to solve this by writing the date and YES on a small piece of paper. Smart, eh? Well, not so much because I kept losing the paper. Currently, I immediately send myself an email after taking the pills, noting the date and time. So far that is working, though twice the message wound up in my spam folder. Worst is that I constantly lose my books.
I usually am reading three or four books, so I can always find one to read, but it’s frustrating if I am seeking a particular book because it’s almost always missing. But, dear reader, Hawkeye is on this!
My new solution comes from the past. Lately I have been jamming the paperback book I am reading at night in my shoes before I go to bed. It’s not always an easy fit (I’m only a 9 1/2), but brute force and some Vaseline can get just about any book in there. Next month I will write about things I have found, beginning with the key to happiness. Hint: chocolate and cheap cigars are involved.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, November–December 2018.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times2018_11.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
