Tell me, have you seen 'em?
I can't find my keys. I know they are around here somewhere. Because I am around here and there's no way in here except by use of the aforementioned keys.
I am not the kind of person who loses things easily. I probably lose things about as often as the average person does. Unfortunately, I do suffer from about sixteen times more short term memory loss than the average person.* I can't remember what I had for breakfast, or who my grade twelve math teacher was, or the plot of any of the movies I've seen recently, or the names of the characters in the book I am reading, or -- it seems -- where I put my keys.
My early-onset senility makes it so that when I do manage to misplace something, I cannot manage to retrace my steps to figure out where I put it. And not enjoying the panic that comes upon me when I cannot locate important possessions, I always put The-Things-I-Need-When-I Leave-the-House in the same place, in the same order from front door to bed, every night when I come home from work.
My keys go in my shoe (don't ask). My iPod gets plugged into the computer. My wallet goes on the dresser. My watch goes on the night table. My cellphone gets plugged in on the other side of the bed. And then I hop in the shower and go to bed. When I awake the next morning, I just run through the list in the opposite order, right from bed to keys.
But yesterday morning when I went to go through the list, something went awry. I tumbled out of bed and had a satisfyingly myopic shower; my cellphone was even plugged in right where it was supposed to be. But my watch was not on the night stand. In its stead was the iPod, which should have been plugged into the computer. My watch turned out to be in my wallet's place on the dresser. And my wallet was in my shoe. The most logical place then for my keys would be in the iPod's place by the computer. However, I am staring at the computer right now and, if you can believe it, there are no keys plugged into it.
Perhaps I should spend more time searching for my keys and less time telling you all about it.
~g. mango is blaming it on the boogie
--
*This condition hasn't been diagnosed by a medical professional, but I am sure it's accurate. Once, I made an appointment to get it checked out, but I forgot to go.
I am not the kind of person who loses things easily. I probably lose things about as often as the average person does. Unfortunately, I do suffer from about sixteen times more short term memory loss than the average person.* I can't remember what I had for breakfast, or who my grade twelve math teacher was, or the plot of any of the movies I've seen recently, or the names of the characters in the book I am reading, or -- it seems -- where I put my keys.
My early-onset senility makes it so that when I do manage to misplace something, I cannot manage to retrace my steps to figure out where I put it. And not enjoying the panic that comes upon me when I cannot locate important possessions, I always put The-Things-I-Need-When-I Leave-the-House in the same place, in the same order from front door to bed, every night when I come home from work.
My keys go in my shoe (don't ask). My iPod gets plugged into the computer. My wallet goes on the dresser. My watch goes on the night table. My cellphone gets plugged in on the other side of the bed. And then I hop in the shower and go to bed. When I awake the next morning, I just run through the list in the opposite order, right from bed to keys.
But yesterday morning when I went to go through the list, something went awry. I tumbled out of bed and had a satisfyingly myopic shower; my cellphone was even plugged in right where it was supposed to be. But my watch was not on the night stand. In its stead was the iPod, which should have been plugged into the computer. My watch turned out to be in my wallet's place on the dresser. And my wallet was in my shoe. The most logical place then for my keys would be in the iPod's place by the computer. However, I am staring at the computer right now and, if you can believe it, there are no keys plugged into it.
Perhaps I should spend more time searching for my keys and less time telling you all about it.
~g. mango is blaming it on the boogie
--
*This condition hasn't been diagnosed by a medical professional, but I am sure it's accurate. Once, I made an appointment to get it checked out, but I forgot to go.
POSTED BY G. MANGO at 12:05
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