February 27, 2011
I had a sleepless night on Wednesday. And I mean sleep-less.
Why? I lost my calendar/datebook. Not my work calendar which is on my Blackberry, but the one with our social engagements. It contained all our 2011 plans. It also contained tickets for upcoming concerts/plays, some Groupon coupons, our stamp supply, a $10 calling card for Latin America, plane ticket confirmations, a DC metro card loaded with $5 and (what worries me most) other things I can't think of.
My datebook always sits in a particular kitchen drawer. It has never left the house. But it disappeared. We tore the house apart, looking under every chair and cushion, on bookshelves and in drawers, and other places it couldn't possibly have been. Eventually, we concluded that it had probably been sitting on a pile of newspapers on the kitchen counter. Other newspapers must have been put on top of it, and it made its way with them into our recycling bag. Unfortunately, the trash had been picked up just that morning.
If you've ever have had a wallet stolen (I have—from my house when I was in it and leaving for France the next day) or lost a treasured piece of jewelry (my mother's pearls were stolen from my hotel room), you might have experienced the sense of hopeless loss and stupidity that I felt on Wednesday night.
I knew that people were dying in Libya. I knew that people were sick and homeless in many places, and that everyone I love was fine. But I lost sleep over my stupidity and carelessness. And over wondering where I won't remember to show up.
I made my way through Thursday. By the end of the day, things fell into perspective.
Just 24 hours too late.