I lost my keys.
This is a pretty frequent ritual for me. Every few days I put them in a new place, usually on accident. I spend 15 minutes on average looking for them.
I have been timed. Don't question it.
Once in awhile I put them in a special place just so I will not forget where I put them. This also does not work.
But this time, I really think I lost them. I checked all the usually places -- the table, the table next to the recliner, the desk in my boyfriend's room, my desk, my TV stand. All flat surfaces are accounted for, but my keys are not.
My boyfriend tells me that I will find them. I do not believe him. In about five days, I will find them and he will be right, for the millionth time.
But I will inevitably lose them again.
I blame my mother, who passed on the "I lose everything in my possession" gene. She loses her keys, too.
People like me are indeed losers. We constantly misplace all things important, but hang onto things that we do not need.
The cycle began once upon a time, in the suburbs of Chicago, when I lost my tee-ball mitt. I could not practice without my mitt, so I had to go home to disappointed parents. I got angry at myself, searching every nook and cranny of my room. I got tired and took a nap and it was sitting next to my bed when I woke up. I believe my parents thought they would teach me a lesson that time.
So it began. I would be lazy or careless, lose something, get angry with myself and eventually fall asleep or get distracted. On Thursday I realized my problem. My professor was willing to let us borrow some old tests to study for the final under one condition: The tests had to come back, or no credit for the final.
So I did what any paranoid person would do. I ran to the library, copied the tests and brought them back 10 minutes later. I would like to think this one move cancels out all the times I have pulled crumpled field trip permission forms from the depths of my backpack to be signed by my parent or guardian 30 seconds before I had to leave for school.
But one day I will lose something of value again, whether I throw out the water bill or leave my kid at a store, and this one act will not redeem me from my track record.
I thought by the time I was 21 I would always know where my keys were, when the water bill is due, or I would have all homework done before 3 a.m. This luxury is still not mine. For some reason, I have not changed since I played tee-ball. Maybe I never will and will perpetually drive those around me crazy as I constantly search for important objects.
I turn 22 on May 5 and I am crossing my fingers that I will get organized. My room will always be clean and my life will be one neat little package.
Until then, I need someone to let me into my apartment.
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