I’ve always prided myself on having an excellent memory.  The motto “a place for everything and everything in its place” has been mine since college.  Every evening, before I retire, I plug in my cell phone and headset at the USB charging station in our kitchen, so they’ll be fully charged and ready the following day—and where I always know they’ll be.  Well . . . almost always.

Tuesday evening, I strayed from my regular routine and didn’t get to bed until nearly one in the morning.  As I climbed into bed, half asleep, it occurred to me that I hadn’t plugged in my phone, nor did I have any idea where I had left it.  No worries, I thought, I’d just look for it in the morning.  When daybreak arrived, I got dressed, and went downstairs to the charging station for my phone, which, of course, wasn’t there.  Hmmm . . . maybe it’s in my office.  It wasn’t!  Okaycheck the living room couch, you idiot (I’d watched a movie there the night before).  No phone.   Hmmm . . . Maybe it’s on my nightstand?  I scrambled back up the stairs to the bedroom.  Fat chance.  Still no phone.  Now I was beginning to panic.  Where the hell can it be?

Beads of perspiration were dripping down my face.  I wracked my brain, trying to remember.  Then, suddenly I had the answer.  My car!  I must have left it in my car.  Relieved, I flew down the stairs and out to my car.  It has to be here!   I opened the passenger’s side door of my Hyundai and checked the center console.  No phone!  My head swam.  Where the hell is that phone?  Eventually, I had to admit I had no idea whatsoever where it was.  Crushed, I went back inside the house, trudged up the stairs, and asked Becky, “Hey, honey, have you seen my cell phone?”  She mumbled something about her “not being the only one with a bad memory,” then said, “Nope, but I’ll call it if you want.”

Using her cell phone, which was conveniently located on her nightstand, she dialed my number.   After several unsuccessful attempts at trying to locate my phone, I finally heard the heart-warming ringtone I’ve come to know so well.  It was downstairs, exactly where I’d left it the night before, sitting on a snack table in our game room, right in plain sight.  You moron!  How could you not have remembered?

“Found it!” I yelled up the stairs.  I was too embarrassed to elaborate.  “I’m going for my walk.”  (I thought I detected a bit of sardonic laughter, but chose to ignore it.)  With keys in hand, I put on my headphones, grabbed my fanny pack, unzipped its forward compartment, and started to insert my phone.  But something was already in there!  It was the long-lost pair of clip-on sunglasses that I thought I had lost nearly a week earlier.  Hallelujah!  I placed them in the rear compartment of the fannypack, put the phone in the front, and headed out the door.

As I walked, I paired my headset with my smartphone and settled into the familiar rhythm of my daily walk, listening to a Ricky Gervais podcast.  Halfway through the program, the sun broke through the lingering, early morning clouds and I rotated the fannypack around to the front to retrieve my clip-ons.  I put them on, then spun the pack back around to the rear and continued walking.  As my arms swung forward and back, the inside of my right arm kept hitting against something.  Hmmm . . . must be the loose end of the fannypack strap.  I reached down to adjust it, and, to my surprise, I found it wasn’t the strap at all.  It was my keys!!  And then I remembered.  I had tucked them between the fannypack strap and my belly while I was putting on my headset.  First the phone, then the sunglasses, and now, my keys.  This was my lucky day.

I stopped in the middle of the street, looked up at the sky, and imagined God staring down at me with a smile on His face . . . and then laughing.  And who could blame him?  Good memory?  Me?  Fuhgeddaboutit!

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