It first came into my house six weeks ago, an indispensable purchase I split into two manageable portions, one within easy reach of my fingertips, the other … the other … I could not recall where I put the other half. It went missing, of that there was no doubt. I only realized this after the fifth week of It entering our home and wasn’t too concerned at first. I began a casual search of the most obvious places, knowing It couldn’t have strayed too far. Ah-h, but It must have or else I wouldn’t have let my inability to discover It evolve into a potential obsession. Later, I’d think about It later. Later woke me up around four the following morning.

My search continued after breakfast. I stood in the kitchen and mentally walked myself through the initial acceptance of It, tried to picture myself moving It from the counter to … to where? If not in the kitchen, It had to be hiding in a bedroom or bathroom, in the living room, dining room, or family room. Niente, zero, I got nothing.

Hubby D joined in the hunt. He double checked where I’d already looked. I double checked where he’d already looked. Every drawer was opened and inspected, as was every upper and lower cabinet. We inspected every bookshelf, stood on a stepladder to view the upper shelves, knowing It couldn’t possibly have crawled up the case by Itself. We checked under the beds and all pieces of furniture. Of course, there was always the possibility that It got mixed in with something else and wound up in an obscure place It never would have gone otherwise. I did not want to consider the possibility of It getting tossed out with the trash.

My search for It did produce some positive results—locating a red sock I’d given up on long ago plus my favorite hairbrush that went missing in January; a purging of outdated clothes and of shoes I’d never wear again, some hardly worn at all. It’s not enough that a pair of shoes fit; they must allow me to walk in them without falling on my face. The shoe madness had to stop. I declared a moratorium on the purchase of more shoes until … a date yet to be decided or until I find a pair too irresistible to leave behind for someone who wouldn’t appreciate them as much as yours truly.

I’ve also declared a moratorium on the maddening search for my indispensable item. Inevitably, the It that went missing will be found, someday. Months from now when I no longer need It. So, I’ve made that no-longer-need day this day, having now figured out a way to do without It. And next time, if there ever is a next time, I will hide It in plain sight and with at least one reliable eye witness.

How about you? Anything gone missing lately? Ever? Did you figure out a way to live without your It?



About Loretta Giacoletto

Loretta Giacoletto is an American writer of family sagas, mysteries, and contemporary fiction, all of which contain elements of crime. She divides her time between the St. Louis Metropolitan area and Missouri's Lake of the Ozarks where she writes fiction, essays, and her bi-monthly blog, Loretta on Life, while her husband Dominic cruises the waters for bass and crappie. Their five children have left the once chaotic nest but occasionally return for her to-die-for ravioli and roasted peppers topped with garlic-laden bagna càuda. An avid traveler, she has visited numerous countries in Europe and Asia but Italy remains her favorite, especially the area from where her family originates: the Piedmont region near the Italian Alps. - See more at: http://www.loretta-giacoletto.com
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