By my third loop through the house ~ bedroom. bathroom, laundry room, living room, kitchen ~ I had progressed from confused to annoyed to down right pissed. This frantic forgetfulness happened far too often, but in no other aspect of my life. I can remember names and faces. I can recall minutia from three weeks ago that anyone else would have jettison from their brain when the first bit of new information took its place. My problem is losing the same item over and over. My house is apparently some a sort of Bermuda Triangle, swallowing up colorful bits of plastic
Constant replacements were getting expensive and I’m tired of being the butt of so many family jokes. Standing in the kitchen counter, I racked my brain for any clues. My hands splayed on either side of the sink, I drummed my fingers in frustration, hoping for some flash of insight. I rehashed the morning in my head, watching scenes unfold throughout the day. Where was I at which time, doing what? Nothing jogged my lost memory.
Baskets of clean clothes sat on the floor in front of the couch. Stomping down an already worn path, I toppled the contents onto the cushions. Flinging T-shirts and underwear around the room, patting down jeans and towels in an exasperated effort to find my missing glasses. They had vanished somewhere in my house along with orphan socks and loose change.
I had articles to write, and without those glasses the effort would be useless. They’re only drug store readers, but the eye strain caused by close computer work without them would bring on hellacious migraines. There was no other choice. My search was leaving me empty-handed. I needed to get new glasses. That would mean having to put up with more complaints about losing yet another pair and the waste of money to buy new ones.
A trip to the store required a shower, and a change out of my pajamas.
Standing under the hot stream, hoping it would wash away the cobwebs, I tried to relax. Stress can affect memory and I hoped I could still remember where I last left my glasses. Pouring a small puddle of pearlescent liquid into one palm, I rubbed my hands together, working the soap into a thick lather. As I reached up to smooth the shampoo through my hair, I dislodged a familiar object.
For Story Dam, an online writing community offering weekly and monthly writing prompts. This week’s theme is: Where is it?
Thin spiral notebook 
hahahaa. dont you hate it when that happens? Great writing. You kept the suspense going to the very end. Great job with the pacing too. I felt as out of breath as your character and that shower felt as relaxing as you said it would be,
LikeLike
Funny! I feel your pain, though. A friend of my has it all worked out. She went to Wal Mart and bought a big enough supply that now she has a pair of reading glasses in every room of her house, with several pair to spare!
LikeLike
Hahaha! This is exactly why so many people have multiple pairs of glasses – one pair for each room of the house, a pair for the office, a pair for the purse in case they are needed when away from home…
… or so I hear…
LikeLike
Haha, that would so happen to me.
LikeLike
Ah ha ha haaa! Sorry to laugh but that is hilarious…I shouldn’t mock you, I know. I know that Karma will bite me on the butt someday and I’ll be chasing all over for my glasses…I already have cruddy vision :0P
LikeLike
LOL!! My reading glasses linger everywhere, it could have been me!
LikeLike
I almost spit out my Coke Zero. I have so done this before. Mommy brain.
LikeLike
More times than I can count…
LikeLike
hahaha
I haven’t done this, yet (Ive only had glasses about 11 months)but I’ve done something smilar with car keys and children ( i mean, what?)
very cute, good job
LikeLike
That sounds all too familiar. Not that I ever went into the shower with my glasses still on.. The worst is when you remember seeing the item you’re looking for but you don’t remember where exactly and no matter how hard you’re trying to picture it, nothing comes up. Drives me crazy.
LikeLike
Funny story. I suspect this is fiction, but for me it is a familiar story. There’s no hope for orphan socks. Everyone knows the dryer eats them. But for most everything else, what usually works for me is to ask, “If I were going to put _____(fill in the blank) somewhere right now, where would I put it?”
Ususally works, except when it doesn’t.
LikeLike