I Put It Somewhere Safe. It Has Never Been Seen Again.

I would like to begin by saying that I have an excellent memory.

Unfortunately, I have forgotten all the evidence supporting this claim.

My problems started yesterday morning when I couldn’t find my phone.

This was concerning because I had literally just been using it.

I checked the kitchen counter. Nothing.

I checked the couch. Nothing.

I checked my purse, even though I hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

Nothing.

Naturally, I began retracing my steps.

I had gotten up, gone to the bathroom, let the dogs out, made coffee, wandered into the living room, gone back into the kitchen because I’d forgotten why I went into the living room, returned to the living room because I remembered why I went there, then forgotten again somewhere around the hallway.

Just a normal morning.

After five minutes of searching, I decided to call my phone.

Excellent plan.

There was just one minor problem.

I was holding my phone.

Not metaphorically.

Actually holding it.

In my hand.

The same hand I was using to Google “how to find my phone.”

I stared at it.

It stared back.

Neither of us mentioned what had happened.

We agreed to move on.

I decided I desperately needed coffee.

Fortunately, I had already made some.

Unfortunately, I had no idea where I’d put it.

I eventually found it in the bathroom.

Why?

No witnesses.

No surviving documentation.

Apparently at some point my brain had decided the appropriate place for coffee was beside the toothpaste.

Fine.

I reheated it.

Then forgot it in the microwave.

Twenty minutes later, I made another coffee because apparently the first coffee had been erased from the historical record.

This one made it all the way to the living room.

Progress.

That’s when I remembered I needed to pick something up at the grocery store.

I immediately wrote it down because I am a responsible adult who has developed sophisticated coping mechanisms.

I grabbed a piece of paper.

I wrote:

MILK

I placed the note directly beside my purse so there was absolutely no possibility I could forget it.

Then I left the house without the note.

At the grocery store, I knew I needed something.

Something important.

Something so obvious that surely I would remember it if I wandered around long enough.

So I bought bread.

Bananas.

Dog treats.

Cheese.

A candle I absolutely did not need.

Some chips that somehow fell into my cart.

And a plant.

Because apparently when my brain loses access to essential information, it compensates by purchasing foliage.

I returned home feeling extremely accomplished.

I walked into the kitchen.

Opened the fridge.

Saw the nearly empty milk container.

And immediately remembered.

MILK.

Wonderful.

I had successfully gone to the grocery store for one item and returned with twelve items, none of which were the item.

But at least I had a plant.

I decided I would go back later.

First, I needed to put away the groceries.

That’s when I discovered my keys were missing.

Again.

I checked my purse.

My pockets.

The kitchen counter.

The table.

The couch cushions.

I checked the front door because I have reached an age where apparently leaving keys hanging from the lock is now a legitimate possibility.

Nothing.

After ten minutes, I became annoyed.

After fifteen minutes, I began accusing innocent household objects.

“WHERE DID I PUT THEM?”

The dogs watched silently.

Not one of them offered assistance.

Interesting, considering how quickly they can locate a microscopic crumb beneath a refrigerator.

Eventually, I found my keys.

In the refrigerator.

Sitting beside the cheese.

I wish I could tell you I was surprised.

I wasn’t.

Apparently my brain had watched me put away groceries and decided the keys were also perishable.

At this point I gave up on returning to the store.

Society had seen enough of me for one day.

Instead, I decided to do laundry.

I carried the basket downstairs.

Loaded the washing machine.

Added detergent.

Pressed start.

Look at me.

Functioning.

Forty-five minutes later, I went downstairs to move everything into the dryer.

The washing machine was empty.

The laundry basket was sitting beside it.

Still full.

I had washed absolutely nothing.

Apparently I had added detergent to an empty machine and confidently walked away.

Somewhere, my ancestors felt a disturbance.

I loaded the clothes.

Again.

Actually this time.

Then I went upstairs and decided I deserved a snack.

I opened the pantry.

And there was my coffee.

The second coffee.

Sitting beside the crackers.

Cold.

Of course.

At this point I began wondering whether I should start leaving myself little tracking devices.

Not on my belongings.

On me.

Something that occasionally beeps and announces:

“YOU CAME INTO THIS ROOM FOR SCISSORS.”

Because walking through a doorway apparently resets my brain to factory settings.

I’ll enter the kitchen with purpose.

Three seconds later I’m standing there staring at the refrigerator like I’ve just arrived through a portal.

Why am I here?

What was I doing?

Who sent me?

Eventually I’ll return to the room I came from.

Immediately remember.

Go back.

Forget again.

I have essentially become a human screensaver bouncing between rooms.

By evening, I was exhausted from accomplishing almost nothing.

I decided to relax and watch television.

I got comfortable.

Blanket.

Snack.

Dogs settled.

Perfect.

Then I couldn’t find the remote.

I checked the couch.

Under the blanket.

Between the cushions.

On the table.

Nothing.

I stood up.

Shook the blanket.

Checked beneath the dogs.

One of them looked deeply offended by the accusation.

Twenty minutes later, I found the remote.

It was in my pocket.

Of course it was.

I sat back down.

Picked up my snack.

And realized I had forgotten what I wanted to watch.

So if anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting here drinking reheated bathroom coffee, watering the plant I accidentally bought, and trying to remember why I opened Google.

Oh.

Right.

I was going to look up ways to improve my memory.

I should probably write that down.

Now, where did I put that pen? 😂

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