First, Sweetie gave me asthma. Then psoriasis. And now, his Whereinhellisit syndrome. You know, the one where you are looking straight at something, yet cannot see it?
This happens all the time here at Chez Fur. Car keys, wallets, important papers, cars in parking lots, that thing I just had a minute ago, ear plugs, and now, eye glasses. I have been the triumphant Finder of Lost Things for our entire relationship. I mocked him unmercifully.
But now? I have this disease and I can't find anything, either. Oh, I can still find his things, I just can't find my things.
I mean, I know the drill with his lost stuff. It's either in the bathroom, in his last worn pants or coat, on the kitchen table under something, or near that big RV.
So far, still lost is a dress. A whole dress. This morning? A bottle of medicine for the bunnies. Look, seek, look on top of, search, straighten up, look behind, look under, think. And repeat.
I don't have a Finder Goddess of my own, so I'm fucked.
Guess I'll play solitaire.
