To a point that is.
I’ve been pondering this as I recently was unable to locate two very important things.
Just last week I was unable to find my life. No, not the one I’m living, but the flash drive that contains every word I’ve ever written. It was a panic time in The Land of Confusion. I was more than confused. I was terrified. I was anxious. I was in full blown panic mode.
I finally located it plugged in to one of the three computers I use on a daily basis.
Phew! I can stop cursing now.
Just yesterday I was unable to locate my case that contains all the other flash drives of my life, including the one I used to contain the images of all the documents I had recently scanned and shredded. The Documents that don’t belong to me. The documents that belong to a not for profit. The documents that have to be available to the public including the public IRS.
Panic times 5 gazillion ensued.
I searched my purse, where the case should be.
It wasn’t there.
I searched 3 different offices where the three different computers reside.
Dust bunnies. Dead bonsai trees. Stacks of paper. Thirty-seven cents, all pennies. No case and no flash drives.
This morning I was on my knees, flashlight in hand, searching under the furniture at my home for the case of flash drives. I saw too much dust, 7 toasters worth of crumbs, half a plastic Easter egg, an elephant trying to leave the room, and one pair of panty hose along with the feet from another pair. (Don’t ask.). No case. No flash drives. No two hundred dollars. No go. Continue panic mode.
I contemplated suicide by sniffing dust and crumbs. I also tried to settle in my mind on whether the case was lost or simply misplaced. I couldn’t tell.
In my mind something is considered misplaced until you locate it. If it is never located then it is lost. But where do you draw that time line? Is three months long enough? Six? A year?
It appears my line between misplaced and lost is determined by my state of panic and if I’ve threatened anyone about the lost item or have threatened them with death over the lost item.
Make no mistake. The fact that the item is unfindable is normally all my fault. But would it be fair to keep all this panic to myself? NO, it would not. So I share with everyone around. And I share loudly with colorful words. I’m giving that way.
Peace has been restored again. No one died. No dust was vacuumed. No crumbs were toasted or swept. No, I swore only with known curse words.
I found the missing case on the passenger seat of my care where I placed it when I removed the broken shoes on Saturday. (Don’t ask. That’s another story for another blog.)
From the life and mind of Wanda M. Argersinger
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& Life In The Land of Confusion @ www.wandaargersinger.com/blog