I think the worst, though, is the coffee cup. Coffee cups, by their nature, wander around the house with you. J has trained me to return empty ones to the kitchen counter or to put them in the dishwasher. Almost always. But it's the partially emptied ones that get away. This morning, for example. I selected one of my navy blue Clarion mugs because I like a thin edge most of the time and didn't feel a need for one of my over-sized mugs today. And when I got back from taking E to school and wanted a refill I couldn't locate it.
The process consisted of racking my brain for every movement I made once I had poured my coffee (the first thing I do each morning). The issue is that I'm always half-asleep getting E ready, sort of on auto pilot as I pack her bag and her lunch, focused on not forgetting anything she needs, not focused on what I might be doing with my coffee. So here I am, wandering from room to room after I get back from the school, looking on any convenient surface to see if I put my mug down there. No luck. Not in the bathroom, the bedroom, the office, the kitchen, the dining room, the sitting room, E's room, and not on the bookcases. Three times. Doesn't help that the mug is dark. Mugs don't just disappear, I told myself. This is where the pig-headedness comes in. That mug is here somewhere, damn it.
Finally, in desperation, I returned to E's room. Trying to get her out of bed and dressed can be difficult and this morning was one of those when she didn't just jump up and go. Again, look on every convenient surface, like among all her stuffed animals and toys. What, exactly, did we discuss this morning? What to wear. She wore pants. But she usually wears a dress on Tuesdays (talk about patterns). Aha. I was trying to get her to focus on which dress. Open closet door. The mug was placed above eye level on the closet shelf. Like I would have found that mug anytime soon. Half-empty, naturally.
Case closed, Watson.
Life around here is just so damned exciting.
PS Ground fog, dew, inversion. Must be early fall.