Okay, so I lost a pair of pants. Two actually. And a sweater. This we know.
I also left a sippy cup in a restaurant last night and I’m pretty sure I lost last Thursday all together.
Locked myself out of the house a week ago Monday. Left my keys on my desk where I could see them through the window, mocking me. I ended up fishing them off the desk with my arm crammed into the cat door up to my shoulder, using the rolled up end of a knitting magazine as an arm-extender. After I knocked half the contents of my desk into Meeko’s cat bed, that is. And two failed attempts to pry the screen off the back window.
That was fun.
Friday night I went to a party at a friend’s house. Left my purse there. With my cell phone and my wallet and my keys. I realized it on the way home. No need to trouble her, I thought. I’ll see her in class in the morning. All night long I had nightmares about losing more stuff. In the most memorable, I got up to go to class, the girl at Starbucks wouldn’t take my credit card without my license, which of course I didn’t have, and then I got to the studio and had forgotten my dance bag. I woke up and shook my head to clear the bad gooky.
Ridiculous, really. All the girls at Starbucks know me by name.
I got to class, caffeinated beverage in hand, and found that my ultra-prepared and reliable friend had brought my purse.
+ 1 point in my favor
Then I opened my dance bag. No pointe shoes.
- 1 point (- 2 pointes actually)
Lovely. This is not normal, this losing stuff business. Not even for me. There’s a conspiracy. Bunnies... It must be bunnies.
After class I went to the grocery store. And lost my keys in the store.
Uh-huh. Big rabid bunnies stalking me with their long bunnicula fangs and laughing at me from the shadows every time I turn around.
Eventually I found my keys in the lost-and-found at the store. Went home. Forgot to buy bread. Went back to the store. Can you see how this is going?
This afternoon Luke came to me with “kitty’s necklace” in his hand. I think he took it off my nightstand. “Where’s Ben?” he asked, rattling a collar with a name engraved on the tag.
I knelt down to Luke. “I’m sorry, honey. I lost him too.”
The art of losing, huh?
I’m an artist.