I misplaced my wallet the other day. I realized it was missing when I got ready to head out to do some errands. I wasn't too worried because this happens often enough and I always find it.
The first thing I did was to look in the usual places; the truck, the kitchen counters, the table, etc. Next was to look in the places it might get put or moved to by others like the floor, under the table and an assortment of other flat surfaces around the house.
Starting to get a bit irritated, I ask the grandkids if they had seen it. Big mistake. They had not and now followed me around, helping look in all the same spots I was looking until I told them to go away and play.
I was tempted to call my husband at work and ask him, but he was in the "field", out of cell phone range. That's probably a good thing because once I get frustrated about locating something I have misplaced, I try to blame him for moving it. He usually isn't at fault, but he gets the blame anyway.
He has a different style of looking for things he can't find. He just looks in one spot and then comes and asks me where things are. If he can't locate it easily, he waits for me to find it because I will. If I don't look and he can't easily find something, he just buys another one. We already have six half used bottles of sunscreen because he can't remember where he leaves them after each river trip.
But I was on my own and blaming him wouldn't have located the wallet. Now I was getting just a bit panicked. I was searching pockets of clothes I hadn't worn in a week. I pulled the couch apart to check under the cushions.
Note to self; vacuum under the cushions.
I looked in all the cupboards, the garage, and the fridge.
Note to self; clean the fridge.
I also took another bottle of sunscreen to the downstairs bathroom to add to the six that were already there.
I looked in the truck for the fifth time. Now I had to face an unpleasant thought. What if I scooped it up with the newspapers yesterday. Didn't I remember it being on the couch, and at the time thought about moving it, but didn't?
I hear the garbage truck rumbling through the neighborhood and know time is short. I spread a tarp and tip the can. I hope the neighbors are not peeking out their window as I search through the mess. No wallet.
I begin thinking about calling the credit card companies and replacing my drivers license, again. I lost my drivers license this winter and had to replace it. My old license fell out of the truck a few weeks ago from some deeply hidden place where it had stayed hidden for all those months.
So back to the truck one more time. Laying across the seat, thinking about who I could blame as I stared into the crack between the drivers seat and middle console, I spotted it. It was wedged down so deep, it was barely visible.
Relieved, I could finally go and run my errands. I looked at the list my husband had left and saw that the first thing on it was a bottle of sunscreen.