The search began. For my items and for my sanity. Sadly, as of this writing, neither has been found

When I lost my favorite blue shirt, I was mildly perturbed, but mostly undisturbed because I was quite sure it was hanging to dry in the basement. And even when I went to the basement to look for it and it wasn’t there, I was still unruffled. I figured the cleaning lady took it back upstairs in the interim (ah, denial, you’re my friend).

The fact that this happened right after misplacing my glasses was somewhat irritating. And, yes, they were the replacement pair for the pair I lost a few weeks before, if you must know. But what are you going do, I thought? That’s how glasses roll.

When I lost my second retainer (the orthodontist, in his wisdom, always makes three) shortly thereafter, I was slightly agitated because, retainer? I questioned myself — having passed adolescence by several decades, should I not be old enough to hold on to a retainer?

I spent a moment or two wondering why I was losing things. It churned a little, but I let it go.

But by the time I lost my hairbrush the next day, I realized I was losing it. How did I lose that brush when I know I used it to brush the sheitel I was setting downstairs, and now it’s neither downstairs nor upstairs? Nor under the bed nor the dresser nor the chair nor even under the blanket, for that matter.

The search began. For my items and for my sanity. Sadly, as of this writing, neither has been found. After looking and then looking again, searching in the same places and then again in different places, rifling through closets — mine and those of every other family member — and not finding it, I still didn’t give up. (Bet you weren’t expecting that!)