Early yesterday morning, I set aside what I was planning on wearing that day-jeans with two layered tank tops. I pulled on the jeans and one of the tank tops, leaving the other one for later(don't ask me why I didn't just put the other one on right away, I can't explain it). I go on with my day. Send a couple e-mails, work on my puzzle, check a couple things off my To-Do List and, generally, enjoy my morning.
Sometime in the early afternoon, I think to myself, "I should put on that other shirt now." I go into my room to retrieve said shirt and come out empty handed. The shirt has vacated the spot I assumed it was in. I try to recall where I put the shirt down, but to no avail. Now, this is not an unusual event in my household. I misplace a variety of things at a variety of times for a variety of reasons. Sometimes I get distracted by something else(the phone rings, I discover something that needs to be put away, I realize the dishes have been soaking a bit too long and if I don't do them now the water will soon be that disgusting tepid temperature you never want). Sometimes I put something down in an odd place with the thought that the obscurity of the location will help me remember where I put it(ie. Where's my brush? Oh right! I put it in the flour canister-that was weird!). But usually, I just end up racking my brain trying to think of the obscure location. So on this Wednesday afternoon, the missing tank top was not an extraordinary event. I'd find it eventually...right?
After searching half-heartedly for a time, I gave up, thinking I would find it sooner or later. However, the fact that my place isn't that big and I still hadn't found it started it eat at me so I resumed my search. This time, I methodically made my way through each room in my small basement suite: the living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Even after looking in strange places that I would never have thought to put it(the freezer), I came up empty. I've looked in every reasonable and unreasonable nook and cranny in my place. The shirt is lost. Gone. A victim of my forgetfulness.
This forgetfulness has plagued me my entire life. It was rare that I wouldn't unintentionally leave something behind after a sleepover. Even in my college years, I would often leave possessions behind after visiting with my friend's family's during the holidays. This affliction has a couple possible explanations.
1. I have so many important things going on in my life that I can't be bothered by menial facts like where my shampoo is. I would like to think this one is true but I know how much time I spend on useless tasks such as searching the internet for a song I heard on some random commercial. Unfortunately, I can't claim this one as truth.
2. It's been suggested by my mother that I have a iron deficiency. I may have actually believed this one had this problem not been lifelong. It's not like I go through periods of forgetfulness. This is not a phase, this is my life.
3. Subconsciously, I want to forget things. Maybe I think that it's a conversation starter? "Hey, how ya doin'? Have you seen my glasses?" I must not trust my conversational skills. This one casts me in a slightly pathetic light, so let's just dismiss this one.
I don't know the reason for my forgetfulness. But I vow, for the sake of the my lonely tank top, wherever it is, that I will not stop looking until it has been returned to it's rightful place on the top of my dresser.
**I should say that the brush-in-the-flour-canister was merely an example. I have never, nor would I ever, put my brush in my flour canister. So if you've ever eaten one of my cookies, put your mind at ease.