Looking For The Lost

I imagine many of us have played that childhood game of “Memory,” with its colorful cards of characters or pictures placed face-down on the dining room table. Our goal was to flip over two cards and hope they matched. As each card was eventually turned over, we were forced to remember exactly where its match was.

The more matching pairs we found, the greater our stockpile — and the greater our stockpile, the greater our chance of winning the game.

As I grow older, I no longer need a board game to test my memory. It’s called Life, and I’m not talking about that other board game!

I was searching for something lost last week, though I’m not sure “lost” is the proper word for it. Try “misplaced” or “set aside” or “put in a safe place where I’d find it later (albeit after hours of searching).”

How many of you have a place in your house where you put things you know you’ll need some day?

I knew exactly what I was looking for — a piece of paper folded and still inside its original envelope. It was an important enough document to store in a place where I’d be able to find it in time of need.

For the life of me, I just couldn’t remember which “safe place” that was, and I didn’t realize I had so many “safekeeping” sites until my search began. The paper wasn’t in my go-to destination. Worry set in when it wasn’t in go-to place No. 2, and panic set in by about go-to place No. 4.

I don’t even want to add up how many places I looked before finding what I was looking for. It was in a cardboard shoebox. A shoebox, for crying out loud!

I consider myself a fairly organized person, so to find such an important document stored in a shoebox has shed light on some “room for improvement” in my life.

Several years ago, I noticed a cardboard box sitting on a closet shelf at the farm. On the outside, in Sharpie marker, Mom had written, “Can’t find? Look in here.”

I thought it was the funniest thing ever … and now I think perhaps I should make one of those boxes for myself.

I’d start by putting in the three different versions of black socks sitting atop my dresser for the past several months, unable to be paired with their match. How I could lose three socks in my small house I have no idea, but the excuse that the dryer ate them looks more and more appealing as the weeks go by.

I’d add in the mismatched gloves — everything from those brown Jersey chore gloves to the mini gloves and those with Thinsulate. My theory on the gloves is some were used in a pinch to take a fish off the hook and ultimately discarded in the trash bin.

I’m sure I could find many more things to put in my box, but I’ll have to draw the line somewhere. It’s clear the junk drawer just isn’t cutting it. Should I start with an apple box, or would that eventually have to be replaced with the larger, grapefruit box? And at what point do I just designate a closet, completely organized with “Things I’ll need to find someday” and “Stuff without partners.”

It sounds like a good winter-time project, which means I’m not going to worry about it now. I’m going fishing!

Here’s wishing all of you fishing fanatics out there an exciting fishing opener weekend, and Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there — and especially to mine. Dare I suggest we play a game of “Memory” on Sunday?