“C’mon,” you say, “that’s pretty obvious.” But then ask yourself, How many times have you put something down, a pair of glasses, a set of keys, a phone, and thought to yourself, “Don’t put it there, you dope, you’ll never find it.”
Right now is where the “I’m not as smart as I think I am,” syndrome kicks in. Because you forge right ahead, put the glasses under the chaise in the garden, leave the cell phone tucked into the seat of the mower or leave the keys after you got out of the car on the shelf with the old cans of paint. “Hey, I got a call and I had to put them somewhere,” you reasoned.
When you try to find them, that somewhere gets to be nowhere. Because you’ve gone from the of course I’ll remember I put them on the shelf where the old paints of can are to: “I have no effing idea where in the world I could have left them.”
Suddenly life goes from breezy and carefree to unglued and capricious. Smacking yourself in the forehead you think, How could I be so stupid?
Right here is where you get half-crazy because you need the keys to get in the car to pick up the kids, or you have a dinner party coming up and you need your glasses to read the recipes so now you go into a warp speed search.
This is a setting which involves throwing pillows, tearing apart beds, madly sorting through the trash, shouting things you’d never say in polite company and other goofy actions which turn out to have nothing to do with finding the missing object. The thought that you might be slipping in mental capacity (which your spouse has suggested on multiple occasions) begins to creep into your mind.
Which only aggravates the situation. And this is where the hard part comes in.
The Big Goody: you end up finding that you put the keys on the paint can shelf, tucked the cell phone into the seat rail of the mower (it was wrecked), or found the glasses under the chaise in the garden (they were okay).
So you end up feeling a sense of relief tinged with a feeling of How could I be so stupid? Plus you have to put the beds back together, buy a new cell phone and put the trash back in the bin.
Problem is, if you’ve stayed with me, this isn’t a one-off situation. Like sniffles and headaches, hiding things where you can’t find them recurs on a regular basis.
And, while I don’t have the facts, I can make the case that it’s universal.
Why else would Apple, which sells eighty gillion iPhones all over the world, put a “Find My iPhone” function on its phones? Because they know that everyone hides things where they can’t find them.
And with the genius of Apple, they figured out that people would depend on their phones to find them where they hid them.
So in our household, we go through a number of “Find My iPhone” situations. Not monthly, but surely quarterly, I find myself saying, “Hey, Hon, can I borrow your phone to call mine, I seem to have lost it.”
This is where it gets funny. I mean, you’re standing in the bedroom dialing your own cell phone number because you have no idea in the world where you left it, and when it starts ringing you go into wolf-hunting-prey mode, running from room to room trying to narrow down where the ringing is coming from.
Now these phones set you back good so you’re hoofing around frantically trying to narrow down the source of the sound, hoping it will ring in the house and not somewhere where you can’t hear it. When it rings, you’re triumphant, unless it’s stuck behind the pillows on the couch which muffles the sound. You can hear it but you can’t find it.
This is where the pillow tossing starts again, prompting the wife to remark, “Don’t get so crazy, you’ll find it.” But you’ve already left one on the mower and it got drowned, is going through your mind, that’s another seven hundred bucks I don’t need to spend.
Maybe it’s in the TV room so I run in there. Then the ringing stops. Need to go back and call again. I don’t want to admit that I’ve had to make three “Find Your iPhone” calls, but I can console myself that at the same time I’ve hidden my iPhone, millions of people are doing the same. All over the world you can imagine people dashing around their houses or yurts or pagodas or tents trying to run down their ringing iPhones.
So the next time you’re tempted to leave your keys by the old paint cans, stop and ask yourself if you want to go into How can I be so stupid? mode again. But if you’re like me, you’ll probably go ahead and leave them there again.
Maybe I should get that gizmo that lets you call your keys? One for my wallet too. That way I can find everything I hide. That will make me happy and probably Verizon too. All over the world people will be calling their phones, keys and wallets and the phone companies will be raking it in, Who knew?