I do not loose things.
I am a very busy person and I get distracted a lot. Our house is clean, but never really tidy because my husband and I are in a constant state of being in the middle of 3 projects each. As a result I have learned to combat all these things by being habitual to the point of crazy. Everything has a place and that place always has some logic behind it. This is the only way I know how to function. Ask me what I ate for breakfast this morning and it will probably take me 5 minutes to mentally back track my day. Ask me where my husband stashed a few cigars that he totally forgot he had, I know immediately. Ask me if I locked the house when I left and I won't remember actually doing it, I merely have to rely on the habit. That being said, I have misplaced 3 things in the past week and a half.
We have been extraordinarily busy. Three weekends ago we were in Kansas City. The following weekend was the local craft beer festival and this past weekend was the Charleston Wine & Food festival, so the past two weeks have been excessive in every sense of the word. It really shouldn't be surprising that I lost a few things.
First, the remote for our bedroom TV went missing. I found that a day later. It somehow got tossed all the way under the bed. Second, I realized that my fleece pullover (which I LOVE) was not in any of the places it should be. We have decided that it must have somehow been left in the hotel we stayed at the night of the beer festival. So a phone call needs to be placed tomorrow and see if they might still have it (fingers crossed). Finally, I had lost a ring.
Not an important one. Just a ring. I had bought it to go with my outfit for the Wine and Food fest opening night party; which is this big, swank, cocktail dress sort of affair. So I had gotten this funky cocktail ring which I, naturally, forgot to put on when leaving the house and left on the kitchen counter. The next day, after the haze of wine and rich food wore off and I had spent a full day at work, I went to retrieve said ring and put it away. It wasn't there. My first reaction was to blame the cats. Something small and sparkly, of course they found it and started batting it across the house. I gave it an extra day to show up, it didn't. Then I grabbed a flashlight and started looking under the washer, dryer, stove, fridge, china hutch, couch, everywhere. Nothing. After being the third item to up and disappear this stupid ring became my last stand. I was going to find the damn thing just on principle. I didn't appear. I was dejected. I was angry. I gave up.
While I was getting ready for bed that night I found my ring. In my jewelry case. With all my other cocktail rings. Apparently when I got home on Thursday after the party, even in my exhausted and inebriated state, I put that ring in it's designated place. The habit is just that deep-seeded.
While I was happy to find it, I couldn't help but feel a little like an idiot. I mean really, who does shit like that? I can't help but feel like there is a life metaphor in there somewhere, but it hasn't revealed itself to me yet.
Needless to say I am very much looking forward to a couple fairly low key weekends before we leave town again at the end of the month.