I’m literally paid to be organized. I organize budgets, events, people, details, all day long. And I’m awesome at my job! Thing is, when I come home…all those organization skills disappear. At home, I am disorganized AF. My clothes pile up, dirty spilling out of the hamper, clean in a different hamper never folded. When I come home, you never know where something will end up.
My most recent victim is my badge for work. It’s kind of important. Gets me pretty much anywhere I need to go. It’s how I get into the office in the morning.
The moment of panic comes, then I begin to retrace my steps. So I got home, I put my purse down. Then I walked through the apartment, to the closet. I changed…which means I unclipped my badge in the closet. What did I do after that?? Let me think about it.
After re-tracing steps through the living room, the bathroom, the closet, the bedroom, the dining room, and then back to the living room, I begin to lose faith I will find the missing badge. I re-trace my steps again, just in case. I text Jason to check his bag because maybe it got put in there for some reason. Finally, I collapse onto the couch out of sheer exhaustion and lack of any further brain power.
It was confirmed that the badge wasn’t in JM’s bag, but it obviously isn’t in my apartment either. So I ask, “do you remember seeing my badge when I came in last night?” The answer, of course, is no but then follows a long text of suggestions of places to look. Which is great. Except, it’s a one bedroom apartment. There aren’t that many places to look. So if I’m not finding it, then it’s probably not anywhere that it would make sense of it to be. It’s going to be somewhere completely unexpected. Which is probably why his last suggestion on the text was “fridge?”
After lashing out, getting mad, talking to myself (out loud) about everything that I should be doing to avoid the losing things again. “Pick a spot when you are walking in to drop those items, each item gets a spot. Keep things in that spot because then you won’t lose your shit anymore. Of course, you wouldn’t lose your shit if you were more on top of your game, or you were better at life. Why do I suck at life?!” Bargaining then begins. “Please God, help me find my badge. If you make that badge, magically appear, I’ll do anything.” Extreme, maybe, but sadly this is exactly what happens.
And then…there is acceptance. The shit is gone, it isn’t coming back, the monster under the bed, snuck out last night and took it along with half my socks, that one belt I really liked, and that book I started to read but never finished.
Please tell me I’m not the only one.