Dead center, cover of the newest edition of Vogue Magazine. The journalist in my head asks me, “What’s one thing you absolutely cannot live without?” I gave it a thought. On a normal day, I’d probably answer something generic. Like a daily glass of water, or something serious like my incredibly reliable brain. But that’s not fun. I’d never end up as a rhyme in a Dr. Seuss book if I answered something so boring.
“A glue stick.” I can’t live without my glue stick. I use it every day. I keep it within arm’s reach. It’s my sidekick for any occasion. I thought about it, then gave myself a nod of approval. I decided I’d give it a kiss because nice things deserve kisses.
Cut to a few minutes later…
As I reached out for the item I claimed was always within arm’s reach, I ended up grabbing air.
It wasn’t on my desk.
I scooted out of my chair and scouted the area. It wasn’t over, under, beside, nor behind me. I was running out of prepositions. Now I was panicking. How can a person live without their glue stick? The irony of the situation would have been nice for a laugh if it weren’t happening to me. I could only hysterically flip over my entire room until I found my glue stick.
I retraced my steps. That’s always the precedent for looking for lost objects. I have, so far, walked around every room in my house. Great, my only lead is that I do a lot of things for no particular reason. If I searched for my glue stick in this whatever-gazillion-square-feet house, I’d take forever. I must think.
And when desperate times call for desperate measures, I had no choice but to go utterly insane. No, kidding. Not today. I collected myself and started clean.
I have a five-step protocol for finding lost items.
Retrace your footsteps. Done. Didn’t work.
Check under your pillow, bookshelves, or closet. Personal standard procedure.
Clean everything. It’s spring, might as well. If it weren’t, I’d use any excuse for a good cleaning.
Try again later (if the narrative of Toy Story were true, and if it applied to all things, just let them come to you. You can never say I wasn’t a believer). Needless to say, giving up is a good option when you’ve done everything in the book.
Only when I’m really desperate, pray to Saint Anthony of Padua.
If you’re a social creature, you could also ask for help. And if they accept your once-in-a-lifetime offer of helping you find the things you lose because you’re irresponsible, the least you could do is give them a glass of water. Finding things is exhausting.
Lucky for me, because third time’s the charm or whatever, I found it while cleaning the floor. My glue stick was under my bed, all dusty and sad. I had truly missed my handy-dandy glue stick in the quarter of an hour that it had been gone.
Meet the man of the hour!
Meanwhile, elsewhere:
