Some weeks gravity wins and I drop things or fall down. Other weeks the universe exerts its entropic force and I lose things. Well, gravity has given me a reprieve from falls–I’ve not broken a glass or tripped up the stairs in months–but entropy has reared her head.
Any self-respecting self-grooming eyebrow-plucker can understand my panic when my tweezers disappeared. It seems wiry eyebrows know when it’s safe to emerge like weeds in a field. The tweezers vanished on the same day my kitchen timer did. I looked and looked and swore and looked. I remembered years ago when I lost those bras (sorry, I cannot find the old post anywhere), and the time my sister lost her glasses in the ocean, see that old post here)! Then I gave up when I remembered I also lost my mp3 player the week before. (An mp3 player is an old-fashioned iPod, which is an old-fashioned smartphone, which is an old-fashioned phone, used to play music into ear buds that runners wear.)
Like tragedies that come in trios, so do my lost items. Once I lose three, they usually show up. So I told my woeful tale to anyone who would listen; I texted my daughter a thousand miles away and asked her to look for my mp3 player; and I waited.
The universe chuckled up the mp3 player first, when my four-year-old granddaughter found the little thing on the floor of the van. The universe also released the memory of me dumping my purse on the floor of the van two days in a row–once to find sunscreen at the park, and once to find granola bars for hungry kids in the parking garage at the airport. (Yes, I did take four children under the age of 8 to the airport to meet their Poppi. The terminal was under construction so we rode three escalators and an elevator to arrive back on our original level to locate the greeting space. Another story, but funnier if captured on video.)
Once the mp3 player was found, the tweezers peeked out of the bottom of the bathroom drawer where I had searched for them a dozen times. (Someone must have put them there, but only two of us live here so it was likely me. Hmm.)
Now I’m waiting for the timer. It’s probably in a suitcase, or the oven, or under the couch, or the pocket of a sweatshirt. Come on universe, cough it up.