Into Thin Air

Some mornings, it’s my purse that goes missing. The other day my car keys were MIA. And yesterday, I couldn’t find my glasses.

I searched the entire house twice. I remembered when I had them last. I was sitting at this desk on an after-hours Zoom call with a colleague putting the final touches on an email that needed to go out in the morning.

I looked on my desk, underneath it, and to the side where items tend to fall. I even lifted the standing desk, which is risky because wires cross and unplug with this tricky maneuver.

I formed a search party. Andrew looked downstairs. I went upstairs. My dog, Chloe, followed me around the house, offering unspoken love and support. And Scott followed me around the house, peppering me with questions.

Did you look in the car?

Did you check your coat pocket?

When did you see them last?

Did you retrace your steps?

This well-meaning interrogation wasn’t super helpful. Of course, I looked in all of those places. And yes, I retraced my steps. I am the patron saint of lost items when it comes to finding things for other people. I know where to look. But for some reason, my sixth sense failed me in my time of need.

Typically, it wouldn’t have mattered, but those glasses are key to my ability to function these days. Last week, the eye doctor diagnosed me with dry eye and banned me from wearing contact lenses for ten days. Not only does dry eye suck the moisture from my eyeballs and eyelids, but it forces me to wear glasses. I don’t mind wearing my glasses on the weekends, but I’d prefer to keep the camera off on Zoom calls.

I’m close to tears which would probably be good for my condition but not so much for my situation. It’s amazing how one minute I can be so organized and have everything I need at my fingertips. And then have a morning where I find myself moving throw pillows and shaking blankets like a crazy person.

How do these things disappear into thin air?

Finally, I turn over the middle cushion on the living room couch where I fell asleep last night—green frames with trifocal lenses stare up at me.”There you are!” I scolded them as if they were a child. I called off the search and placed the glasses firmly on my nose. Instantly, one of the arms breaks off.

Now I need to find the Super Glue.

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