Charlie and me are at the age where we spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter. We walk into a room and think, Now, what am I here after? (Tommy’s aunt told me that one, and boy, ain’t it the truth!)
If you find yourself always losing things, routine is your friend. It’s simple. Choose a place where something is going to live, say your car keys, and always return the thing in question to it’s home base. That way, it’ll always be there when you need it.
Easier said than done, right? Your cell phone rings as you’re wrestling grocery bags from the car into the house. You put everything on the counter, and rush to fish your phone out of your pocketbook. You look at the display and see it’s some telemarketer calling you from Texas, so you don’t answer the phone and return to the task at hand.
The next morning, where the heck are your car keys? Not on the car key hook! Of course not. You got distracted. Now you have to retrace your steps, try to remember what jacket you had on. That’s where you usually find them: in your jacket p
ocket. Or on the floor next to the kitchen counter, where they fell. Or, one time when I was just starting menopause, I found ‘em in the vegetable bin. Of course, the bag of lettuce hanging on the car key hook was a dead giveaway. (Gees, I still can’t believe I did that!)
So yes, every once and while things get misplaced, but my dear husband complicates things further by hiding stuff on himself. Not intentionally, mind you. See, Charlie is the guy you call when you have to pack a lot of things into a U-Haul. He just kind of knows what’s going to fit, where. Or when I’m putting away leftovers from dinner, I’ll ask him, “Is all this chili going to fit in that Tupperware? He’ll take a quick glance and say, “Yup” or “Nope.” And darn, if he isn’t always right! (Don’t tell him I said that.)
But then Charlie goes and takes this to extremes. Say on one of our vacation road trips. Every day he repacks the car in a different way, looking for the perfect fit. The downside is, he’ll stick something into a space because it fits, not because it makes any sense for it to be there. I go to reach for my toiletries case, something that needs to be accessible, something that’s been in a particular spot for the last five days, and now it’s somewhere else. And he can’t remember where he put it. Then we spend an hour tearing the car apart. Not how I want to spend my vacation.
Charlie’s aware of the problem. In fact, the last time he did this, it bugged him so much he felt he needed to write a poem about it.
I Did It
Been lookin’ for a day or so
Lookin’ high and lookin’ low
For the charger to my phone
I’ve always kept it right in here
Where I’ve put it isn’t clear
You wonder why I groan?
Darn! I do this all the time:
Think about it ‘til I find
A better place to put the tool
Then search for hours like a fool
I did it, oh, I did it
What did I do? I hid it
Hid the thing on myself
No I don’t have a spare
I know my charger’s here somewhere
When did I see it last?
My wife’s got one that would be fine
If I could plug it into mine
My phone’s a thing of the past
I just kick myself because
The thing was fine where it was
Now that it’s somewhere on the loose
My phone is nearly out of juice
I did it, yup, I did it
I admit that I hid it
Hid the thing on myself
Wait a minute, I know where
I put the thing, it’s right in there
The charger to my phone!
I think I’ll just undo my wrong
Put it back where it belongs
And leave the bugger alone
I did it, oh, I did it
I found the charger at last
That worry of mine has passed
Now can someone tell me, please
What I did with my keys?
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Lost in Space