I have always been good at losing things. Being quite near-sighted, and astigmatic to boot, I've found my glasses especially easy to lose. Nowadays I have to park them very consistently in a wooden holder in the top drawer of my dresser, where they are safe from meddling felines. This is a matter of survival. My eyeglasses simply are not visible to my naked eye, in most lighting situations.When I was younger, and not quite so blind, I was just as gifted at losing things. More so, actually. For besides being vision-challenged, I was also quite absent-minded. Age and experience have made me more methodical. I make mental notes, and sometimes back them up with written notes in case I misplace the mental ones. I think twice about things. I follow routines. But when I was in college, my whole life seemed to consist of a search for one misplaced item after another. My belongings were in a constant state of ransack, which doubtless compounded the problem.
I finally achieved a transcendent state of absent-mindedness one day during my sophomore year in college when I climbed up on the carpeted platform my roommate and I had erected over our beds, sat back on my heels, and tossed my keys in the air. Before they touched the ground I was seized by a conviction that I had lost them. I immediately started tearing the room apart trying to find them. I checked under the couch cushions. I pulled books off the shelves. I turned shoes upside down and shook them. I opened drawers and cupboards that I knew had been closed when I tossed my keys.
Finally I sat back on my heels again, exhausted, and fully prepared to submit the case as evidence that tiny black holes exist all around us. I looked down and there my keys were, on the carpet between my knees. I had crawled over them a dozen times while looking for them; it's a miracle I didn't kneel on them.Behold, my stupidity! Isn't it amazing?
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