One of the constant irritations in my life is misplacing things.  It could be an important piece of paper, document, bill or a letter I wanted to respond to, a gift I bought to give someone which when I expect to see that person I cannot locate, or as I found this week when in the midst of a conversation with my sister, the cell phone cut out because it needed charging, the cell phone charger.  After hunting unsuccessfully for the little varmint, and having looked in the few places it might have been, the one place it should be and trying to kinetically retrace my steps after last charging it, I finally set aside the frantic search assuming it is yet another of fate’s little pranks in which something that is really quite underfoot is invisible to my eyes.  My daughter advised that I need to stop looking for it and it will show up and my cousin Theresa laughed at my plight, but did offer to send me a batch of them they seem to have accumulated over the years.  She said, “Meanwhile keep looking!” to which I said I have already begun to pester Saint Anthony over it (patron Saint of lost things).  If worse comes to worse I may have to trek out to the store where I bought it and try to buy another charger without having to buy another whole new phone set.   


The I can’t find it Syndrome

This trait runs strong, especially,

it seems, through the females in

my family.


My sister, I, several cousins, are

plagued with the exasperating

difficulty of finding things, usually

important papers or information.


As the younger ones come into

This realm, with husbands mystified,

I empathize and laugh,

welcome to the family!


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