June 3, 2003

I’ve done a number of things that would make an intelligent person stop and wonder, what was she thinking? where was her brain? Here’s the latest such event.

I was recently in the midst of preparing for an upcoming vacation. I had procrastinated about the wholly undesirable prospect of having to retrieve our luggage from the local off-site storage unit in town. Living in a cracker-box condo, we don’t have the storage space to accommodate all of the junk (aka stuff) we own, and discovered that we needed more space to store the extra stuff in our possession, for which - in the cracker-box -we no longer have room. (Every month or two, I rotate the “stuff” so it doesn’t get lonely.)

Anyways, two days before the impending trip, my son and I reluctantly journeyed over to pick up the necessary luggage. I began to rummage through the tall piles of prized “stuff”, looking for the suitcases we are going to need. I locate my son’s, and pull it out.

He opens his suitcase and finds, right on top - much to his delight! - his beloved swimming trunks (which, by the way, were impossible to get off of him the previous summer). He pulls them out, and wants to do a quick-change right then and there. Fortunately, I’m able to convince him to wait until we get home.

So, we now have his suitcase. Mine, however, seems to be missing. Continued rummaging turns up nothing. I spend another 15 minutes or so moving things around, yet still the misplaced piece of luggage cannot be found. Finally coming to the realization - albeit puzzled, that it’s not there, we leave, and return home.

We arrive back home. My son lugs his suitcase up the front stairs and into the house. He opens his case and starts fishing through it. To him, it’s like Christmas in July! “Oh boy, look!” “I forgot I had these.” “Wonder if these still fit?” He goes off to play fashion model.

And me? I’m standing at the front doorway, wondering to where my suitcase has disappeared. Now on a mission, I set out to search the house (which I should point out, I had not done before going to storage). I look around my bedroom - like it would magically appear while I’m out looking for it. It’s not there. Then I look in my closet. Still don’t see it. I look behind the door. There, in the corner behind the door, my suitcase sits.

Feeling just a tad bit less intelligent than I had earlier in the day, I take the suitcase out of my closet and place it in the corner of my bedroom.

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