Loser, Weeper — Why Can’t I Be a Keeper?

The list of things I lose keeps growing, as if I am trying to fulfill a quota.

Are you a loser, too?

Unfortunately, I admit to a long history of misplacement. The only time I recall a blowup with my sweet, elderly first grade teacher occurred when I lost my first reader. No problem, I told her. Mom would look for it. After all, what were mothers for? Dick, Jane, and Baby Sally would find their way back to school eventually.

Mrs. Carr did not buy it. “You are responsible for that book. Not your mother.” She even implied that I should look for it!

Oh, well. Everyone has bad days. Even teachers.

If you are of a certain age, you probably recall skate keys — at least, in theory. My neighbor-hood buddies and I probably would not have recognized one if we saw it, we lost them so quickly. Ditto for the skates’ leather straps. We tied skates on with rags and never noticed any difference.

What works for kid transportation, however, does not necessarily apply to adult transportation. Rags exert little kinetic effect on automobiles. As for replacing keys, no one can truck to the hardware store anymore and do it for a few bucks in a few minutes. Instead, the culprit is forced to purchase a pricey mini-computer disguised as a key. Or she must break into her own car. Or hot-wire the engine.

Losing one’s keys — and the above “solutions” — tend to annoy parking lot security personnel.

Their crankiness ups several notches when the car itself vanishes.

“It’s gray,” I told the parking attendants after a 1988 Amy Grant concert.

Tsk, tsk. Maybe they experience even more bad days than first grade teachers.

I have lost more items than I have ever owned. Four umbrellas during my freshman year in college. A leather belt I bought in England. The only hat my husband ever liked, bought in Hawaii, lost in Israel.

I try to think positively. After all, someone is enjoying the use of the umbrellas, the belt, and the hat. I try to impress my husband with my global generosity.

Well, husbands have bad days, too. Especially when I lose my passwords.

Please do not suggest I make a list. I lose lists.

Put reminders on my cell phone? My cell phone?

We won’t even go there.

Unfortunately, every loss morphs into a double loss, as I lose my temper.

But if I have lost it, why doesn’t my temper go away, too?

Your Extraordinary Ordinary: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever lost?

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