I should realize this every time I lose something. Just check inside my favorite arm chair seat cushion.  For if it wasn’t found there, perhaps it never was really lost to begin with?!  Hey that sounds eerily familiar.

But still I frantically search elsewhere.  I retrace my steps.  I do improbable things like walk in rooms and car interiors I knew I was never in when the object in question disappeared.  I allow people into talking me into ridiculous search and rescue scenarios like standing upside down on my head or walking on the roof.

I try to think like the missing article.  “If I was my concert tickets where would I go off to?”  “If I were my cup of coffee where would I lodge myself?”

Many times I have been depraved enough to suspect that deep down, most of those darn inanimate objects were in on one vast conspiracy against me.  Especially when I was in a hurry and felt stressed.

But as I have aged I know it is just a learning disability or some other kind of sympathetic syndrome (“memory intolerant?”) that accounts for my propensity to lose things.  For one thing, being an especially creative person, I often juggle multiple creative thoughts, which means that the folder or book or keys or coffee cup that I am carrying gets completely blanked out on in the course of my travels.  Adding this creative multi-tasking part certainly helps my ego.

But this is all right anyway because I have a solution.

I just have to take a deep breath, calm down, sit tight on my trusty reclining coach in front of the TV, and have a little faith.

Because 9 times out of 10, unless my missing thing took a magically fateful bounce down the drain or through the vent; it will turn up again in one of my coach cushions.

The last time it was my cell phone.  I tried the kitchen and the bathroom and the study.  I suspected the people at Wendy’s where I got my last sandwich.  Perhaps they nicked it while I wasn’t looking.

Then cooler heads intervened in the form of my wife who told me to call myself.  So I did.  “John? John?” I called out on our house phone.

Sure enough, before long I could hear the low, pitiful ring tone of my cell phone trapped behind a large coach cushion.

So remember that folks after you read this.  The solution is usually not very fancy or very far away.  Sometimes it’s right underneath your nose even.  In the form of a biliously, padded sofa couch.

After all this is the place that we spend 3 or 4 hours of our life every night in order to decompress from a long work day.  Remember that we are creative, multi-tasking, gifted, special education people who have multiple channels to click to, competing with all the thoughts that are rolling around in our brains.

Just repeat the mantra—“sofa, sofa reclining couch, reclining couch.”

Then pull out your house phone and call yourself.  Of course if it is money or keys or something else you have misplaced, then calling yourself will do no good, except make you feel less lonely.

Who knows?  Perhaps you can try to dial other people’s numbers too in the off chance that they’re long lost phones are also swimming somewhere down in the inner bowels of your sofa cushion.  For truly, family pets and ancient ancestors may have some buried treasures still down in the coiled springs of your favorite resting place.

Regardless, over the years my track record speaks for itself.  Why in just these short months, I have relocated my cell phone, part of a tuna sandwich, my car keys, 2 dollars for metro fare, 4 bobby pins, 3 french fries, and my poor aged Uncle Arthur who had thought my recliner was a sleeper sofa and had not found the leverage to get out.

So go on and dream globally.  But ACT locally.  Sometimes man’s best friend can be more than just the family dog—it just might be that reclining couch or sofa that occupies (squanders?) so many quality hours of our daily adult lifetime watching sports and reruns.  Remember also that our sofas don’t just TAKE—they also GIVE!  And RETURN! (like the tides of the ocean surf!)


About John Watts

I like to write transcendental community based essays and stories along with photo journalism pieces.
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