I have a serious problem with losing things. I always have. This problem is apparently inherited from my dad. I can remember him stomping around the house like a lunatic, shouting, "Where are my god-damn keys?" I did not plan on following in his footsteps, but I did--to some degree--anyway.
For instance, today I lost the book I was reading. It's absolutely ridiculous, as I was reading it last night, but that said, I've searched the sofa and between the bed and wall, my pillows, beneath the covers. I seem to only lose things that are important to me. Another example: many years ago, I lost my wedding ring. It was a very nice ring--as my husband slid it onto my finger during our wedding ceremony--so you can imagine it was very nice and not as easily replaced as a book--and I was devastated. I told him. "God damn it! I lost my wedding ring. I put it right here. It was right here!" I pointed beside the kitchen sink.
We took the sink apart. No ring.
My husband said, "It will turn up. Don't worry about it, honey."
It never turned up. I turned our house upside down but the ring didn't fall out.
I think I would lose my mind if I didn't have my husband to ground me. I love him so much. I grew up with a raging dad, and I married a soft-spoken witty man. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
I used to think... Well, I think I'm losing my mind this time, this time I'm losing my mind. --Beastie Boys, Mike D (I got to meet the Beastie Boys back in the 90s... back in the day!) And sometimes I still do think that way--that I'm losing my mind--but I have this awesome family to keep me sane. I wasn't born into them. I chose them, and that makes my family all the better.