The Butterfly Effect
I'm the type of person that if I do not put things back right away they tend to get misplaced. And not misplaced in the sense like it's never coming back. Oh it's coming back. It just comes back and I look at it and it looks at me and I'm like, oh...right...that's where I left you. Like the time when I thought I lost my Movado watch. I searched high and low but to no avail, I moved from Bay Shore without my Movado. I even went through everything when I packed and unpacked but the Movado was gone. It was gone up until the time I was packing for Vegas three weeks ago and needed sunglasses. I went through the jean drawer where I know I keep them and found a pair I had forgotten about as well as what was hidden underneath the pair of forgotten glasses....my Movado…in its case…where I would always put it when I was done with it.
Like "they" say: It's always in the last place you look.
But Steve and I say: It's always in the stupidest place to look.
So when I recently misplaced my marriage license, social security card, passport, and original birth certificate we knew we were in for it. The materials were in a manila envelope that came back into the house after my excursion with the social security office and did not leave again, I knew that for sure. But after the search of the century we gave up and I moped for days.
Last night, as I'm chatting with Moma, Steve makes me hang up the minute I come through the door. I'm told to close my eyes and he leads me through the house. I'm walking cautiously, knowing there's stuff strewn about the floor from the search and he assures me he'll get me there without a problem (since he's the one bumping into everything first). He sits me down in the King's Chair and tells me to cover my eyes. He moves the snack table in front of me and steps back. The anticipation of what this is about is killing me!
When I open my eyes I'm ecstatic! He found the manila envelope! He found it! Where was it?!
Under the fan?! We moved everything in this apartment five times but neither of us looked under the fan?! We moved the couches! COUCHES! But we didn't move a five pound FAN?!
But what really gets me about this whole debacle is today when I go to update my Facebook status message to happily share with the world [a few friends] that the important documents have been located, my eyes shift to the left to look at my profile pic. I pause. I squint. I sit back. I laugh. Loudly.
The manila envelope is in the goddamn picture!
I must have moved the fan when I played EA Active. I must have moved the fan right on top of the manila envelope without realizing it. And if I never moved the fan I wouldn't have lost the manila envelope and I wouldn't have been anxious for a week. I wouldn't have been angry at the drop of the hat, I wouldn't have fought with Steve over not putting the laundry away, Steve wouldn't have felt bad so he wouldn't have put the towels away and wouldn't have knocked into the fan while putting the towels away, and Steve wouldn’t have had to find the manila envelope.
So if I didn't move the fan, the towels would still be sitting in the laundry basket in the kitchen. At least something got accomplished!
Like "they" say: It's always in the last place you look.
But Steve and I say: It's always in the stupidest place to look.
So when I recently misplaced my marriage license, social security card, passport, and original birth certificate we knew we were in for it. The materials were in a manila envelope that came back into the house after my excursion with the social security office and did not leave again, I knew that for sure. But after the search of the century we gave up and I moped for days.
Last night, as I'm chatting with Moma, Steve makes me hang up the minute I come through the door. I'm told to close my eyes and he leads me through the house. I'm walking cautiously, knowing there's stuff strewn about the floor from the search and he assures me he'll get me there without a problem (since he's the one bumping into everything first). He sits me down in the King's Chair and tells me to cover my eyes. He moves the snack table in front of me and steps back. The anticipation of what this is about is killing me!
When I open my eyes I'm ecstatic! He found the manila envelope! He found it! Where was it?!
Under the fan?! We moved everything in this apartment five times but neither of us looked under the fan?! We moved the couches! COUCHES! But we didn't move a five pound FAN?!
But what really gets me about this whole debacle is today when I go to update my Facebook status message to happily share with the world [a few friends] that the important documents have been located, my eyes shift to the left to look at my profile pic. I pause. I squint. I sit back. I laugh. Loudly.
The manila envelope is in the goddamn picture!
I must have moved the fan when I played EA Active. I must have moved the fan right on top of the manila envelope without realizing it. And if I never moved the fan I wouldn't have lost the manila envelope and I wouldn't have been anxious for a week. I wouldn't have been angry at the drop of the hat, I wouldn't have fought with Steve over not putting the laundry away, Steve wouldn't have felt bad so he wouldn't have put the towels away and wouldn't have knocked into the fan while putting the towels away, and Steve wouldn’t have had to find the manila envelope.
So if I didn't move the fan, the towels would still be sitting in the laundry basket in the kitchen. At least something got accomplished!