Mind Lost and Found

I am not what you would call a “scattered” person.

One of the things I have always known about myself (and that my friends and family have come to love…right, guys?) is that I have a type A personality and it affects the way I live. (For more specific information about my personality type, I refer you to this satireperfect article.)

I’ll give you an example: I can tell you with alarming description the exact location of almost every item in my apartment. Right now. With little hesitation. My mutant power manifests itself in acute awareness of every single bit of stuff that surrounds me at all times.

Yeah, it is a little scary.

There are few things in the world that stress me out so much as the few pockets in the apartment that I have not organized within an inch of their lives. (Lookin’ at you, front closet, crawl space, and filing cabinet.)

I hate not knowing exactly what is in there. Being forced toLearning to live with the stuff of another person, even if I don’t understand or like that stuff, was by and large the hardest adjustment of married life for me. (Sorry, babe, you know I love you. Just not your piles and piles of papers ;))

So, in short, I am a freak. It may concern or, at times, annoy others, but in general, knowing where just about everything is at a moment’s notice a pretty useful skill to have.

Which is why I bug out when I can’t find something.

Because, you guys? There is only one place I would have put it. And that’s the place it belongs. So if it’s not there, I am left with very few options:

1. It has been stolen.
2. Our apartment is haunted and it was spirited away.
3. I AM ACTUALLY LOSING MY MIND BECAUSE IT SHOULD BE RIGHT HERE RIGHT HERE RIGHTHERERIGHTHERE.

As you can see, this is how civilizations break down.

In the last two months, I have lost (in chronological order) my wedding band (oops), my favorite pair of leggings, and my watch. About a week ago, they were all missing at the exact same time. And I may have considered tearing the apartment apart with my bare hands to find them.

Much like the loss of a person, there are emotional stages to the loss of an object:

1. Indifference – “I’m not going to freak out…I probably just left it in my other bag.”
2. Denial – “If I don’t check my other bags, I won’t have to admit I don’t know where it is.”
3. Determination – “Today is the day I find it!”
4. Frustration – “Ooookay…I’ll check my other bags. I know it’s in one of them.”
5. Panic – “It has to be in this bag! Okay, no, then it HAS to be in THIS BAG. IT HAS TO BE IN ONE OF THESE BAGS.”
6. Paranoia – “Someone stole it. My husband moved it. PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS UPSETTING MY SYSTEM.”
7. Depression – “It’s lost forever. How could this happen? I’m a failure.”
8. Acceptance – “It’s lost forever. I will learn from this and NEVER LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.” (Cue an additional mental complex.)

OR

8. ELATION (possibly coupled with an inflated sense of accomplishment) – “I FOUND IT! I KNEW I would.”

I went through literally all of these steps with the three things I had lost. I didn’t help that they were three of my favorite possessions.

Fortunately, one by one, each piece materialized. The ring had fallen out of my jewelry holder and was hiding between my wardrobe and the wall. The pants had just fallen down behind the bigger pile of pants in the wardrobe. The watch was — get this — with all my other bracelets.

The fact that two of these things were technically exactly where they were supposed to be and I just didn’t see them might be evidence that I am, in fact, losing my mind. BUT THE SYSTEM STILL WORKS.

Does anyone else completely lose it when they can’t find something? Or have any mental tricks to recalling the location of an item? Help a (possibly insane) girl out.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Mind Lost and Found

  1. Hahaha! Justine, I am laughing so hard because I was on the verge of a breakdown yesterday morning when I woke up and could not find my favorite spandex-y workout pants. I wasn’t going to workout or anything…in fact, I was going to Donut Hut. But I already knew what I wanted to wear, so when I couldn’t locate them (since I put them IN THE SAME SPOT EVERY TIME), I flipped. I just KNEW my boyfriend had something to do with it, but the worst part was that I was so exhausted on Saturday night, I literally could not retrace my steps to figure out where else I might’ve put them. I couldn’t even prove my compulsiveness. We just moved into a new house a little over a week ago, it’s WWII-ish in age, and there have already been about 3 times I’ve convinced myself we have a ghost. This was the third time in a week. My boyfriend was frustrated because he was CERTAIN he didn’t do anything with them but I was unfairly blaming, and I was certain he did, as my stuff never seemed to go missing this frequently before we met. Of course, he jumbled them up with all of his pants in a box (yes, we’re still living out of boxes), and they fell somewhere in the middle, where I NEVER would have put them, and therefore never looked for them, until I actually did start tearing the whole place apart. I don’t really understand how he could ever mistake these tiny, shiny, spandex capris as his…but he did. And it DRIVES. ME. CRAZY.

    Side note: Partway through writing this, he called saying that he thinks we have a ghost because he couldn’t find the donuts. I said “are they not by the sink where you put them?” …………………………….. “oh, yeah. they’re here.” – WHAT?! YOU. ARE. THE. ONE. WHO. PUT. THEM. THERE.

    AS;LDKFJASLDFASLDKF!!!

    • At least once a week, Joey and I have this conversation:

      Joey: I can’t find my shoes ANYWHERE.
      Me: Are they not in your closet on the shoe rack?
      Joey: …oh. Found them.

      What I’m saying is, PREACH.

Comments are closed.