Losing Things

This post was written 2 months ago. Things are still the same. I lost my purse today.  I had it when I left my Mom's house. And when we headed off to retrieve the grandteen from summer activities, that purse had disappeared.

Or, did I have it when I left my Mom's? I called her. My brother helped her look and, no purse.

Well we got back from grandteen retrieval and I searched again.  Every room on the first floor, every room on the second floor. I even searched the guest "apartment". Where the heck was that thing?

Back to Mom's. Nope not there.  

As I strapped myself in, in my Mom's driveway, I remembered that I shifted my purse to fasten my seatbelt earlier in the day. I had it hanging cross body.  So it had to be at home.

After another circuit of all the usual suspect places, I went upstairs to retrieve my credit card info to report the loss.

This is a necessary step when you lose a purse with a wallet and other essentials for life in these modern times.  But, I remembered that I HAD put a plastic bag in the plastic bag holder in the cellarway. Before I made a single phone call, I opened the cellar door. 

There was my purse - hanging from a hook with my aprons. 

Losing things is becoming a way of life for me. The worst thing is that I have no memory of how things get where I find them. According to a well-known organization that serves people who are a half century old or older,  having no memory of putting something where you find it is a warning sign of mental decline.

I am proud that I was able to retrace my steps. I never believed that my purse was truly lost. I remembered hanging it on a hook.  And I thank my lucky stars and Saint Anthony that I looked one last place before I called the credit card company.