Lost and Found

I've blogged about the art of losing things before. I'm a maestro [sp?] when it comes to misplacing things and the things I lose have a tendency to resurface years later in a place that I could have sworn I looked.

Today I took my mother to the doctor and there was a women in the waiting room who had lost her keys. Clearly they had to be somewhere in or around the office since she'd managed to get there, but there was no trace of them in her purse, the exam room or the waiting room. I imagine she finally found them out in the parking lot because she did evantually go outside and she didn't come back. All the while she, and the rest of us, where searching for her keys, she kept saying, "They'll turn up." And of course, she was right because they HAD to be somewhere in the vicinity.

I wish I could have that attitude when I've lost something. It'll turn up. It usually does. Sometimes decades later, but it does. I'm not that calm about the whole thing. Usually I panic when I lose something, not so much because whatever the item is can't be replaced [even a set of keys can be remade, as much os a nuisance as it might be]. It's more the idea that I should have put the object in the right place, I shoudl have kept better track of it. I'm more angry at myself than at the universe.

Today, it's funny, I learned a new feeling that goes along with losing something and finding it again. I was in a mild panic because I trekked all the way to the bank to retrieve a document from my safety deposit box, and the document wasn't there. My first instinct was to tell myself, therefore it must be at home. It was not in the first place I looked when I got home, but it was in the second place I looked, so naturally I was relieved I hadn't lost it, but instead of being able to leave it at that, the relief was immediately replaced by a nagging fear that I will now misplace the document again.

Silly, I know. I know where it is. It's a logical, safe place that I should be able to recall if I need it, but still I had to check the spot several times and worry that maybe I should put the document somewhere else.  Finding it just wasn't enough, now I have to go overboard to make sure I don't misplace it again.

Maybe it's me. Maybe it's just that losing something is so traumatic I have to try to protect myself from having to deal with it. Maybe I'm just neurotic, but it's not enough to say, "It'll turn up." I need to know it will always be where I need it to be.

How do you feel when you misplace something? Do you get angry at yourself, angry at the universe or do you just gamely keep looking and tell yourself you'll find it eventually because ultimately it's around somewhere?