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2002-06-05 - 1:46 p.m.

I’m constantly losing things.

I don’t know whether to blame this affliction on my CRS (Can’t Remember Shit) Syndrome, or whether it’s due to ADD--Attention Deficit Disorder, but whatever causes it, I’m continually misplacing things and off in a frenzy, scrambling around trying to find them. The first place I look--well, except when the lost items are my temper or mind--is the refrigerator. Hm, best look at that again. I do recall looking in the refrigerator a couple of times for my mind and temper.

This frantic search of the refrigerator for things lost goes back to childhood when I lost Scrappy the cat. Well, I didn’t actual lose him, I put him in the refrigerator and Mom thought he was lost. Lost, that is, until she opened the icebox for supper makings and a cold--but very sated--Scrappy jumped off the top shelf and ran, a little stiff in the joints, to hide under a bed. Old habits die hard, and I still go first to the fridge in my hunt for things gone missing.

My glasses are never where they should be: On my face! I have two pair, a pair for the office and a pair for home. Double jeopardy. I tromp throughout the building at work trying to find the elusive spot where I’ve laid them. Before this endless quest is over I’ve misplaced my coffee mug and have to retrace my path to find it. At home I walk around in circles trying to conjure up an idea of where I’ve put them.

When reading I sometimes pack my book along when taking care of other business. Sometimes, on good days, when I arrive at my destination I remember what the hell I was there to do, take care of the chore, then return to my chair to read. Only I no longer have the book in my hand. A trip back through the house---or outside--in search of it. One time I managed to kick a library book up under the front seat of my car. After many weeks the library contacted me and I paid for the book. A few weeks later I found the sneaky book.

Anything stored in my garage or back basement is immediately lost! The Lost Frontier. I dig through stuff, slinging stuff to the floor to find the stuff I want. Then I restuff it all back to wherever it’ll fit and it all becomes stuff forever lost. I do have my silverware drawer in some sort of organized state, but the drawer for basters and slotted spoons and spatulas is a mess, and anything I’m looking for is always lost at the bottom of the drawer.

Twice I’ve had to take myself downtown to the Department of Motor Vehicles to replace lost titles (boats both times) so I can sell the boat. Now anytime I go in there to purchase new plates for the car the gal immediately gets out her Application For Title Replacement pad, suspecting I’ve misplaced a title to somedamnthing.

Yet, some things I maybe should lose don’t get lost at all. My big, irrational ability to lose my temper maybe should be lost, or at the very least outgrown. But what is lost most times is my temper. Some days at work I can manage to lose my temper at least twice--an hour! And even when I lose it twice the previous hour, I can find it and lose it again in the next hour. And the next.

I let it go and let it run amok so badly on Monday I was shaking and sputtering. A brief explanation (to go into it would cause me to unleash my temper and let it run amok again): some damn fool woman who had no knowledge of navigating a boat slammed into the rear of my boat in the docks. Then she took off in her boat (borrowed from some damn fool man). One of the Marina boys saw her do it and could ID her, so I spent most of Monday laying in wait for her to return to the dock area. We tangled and I’m sure she felt she’d been accosted by a maniac escaped from Mid-Mo Mental Health!

There’s no need to discuss the loss of my mind. My mind has been lost so long going into it here would be a moot point!

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