Where is it? Tell me!

May 23, 2002

I'm getting really sick of this.

I wake up in the morning. I check for notes next to the lamp, but I must have forgotten to write one to myself. I stumble out of bed, eat some oatmeal, brush the teeth, ignore the hair, put on the clothes, find the keys, walk out the door, and curse.

I wander the block, looking lost, wandering the streets, a lone person under the glare of the streetlights. (The sun, now that summer's here.)

Ocassionally a car drives past, silently. Are they lost too? I ignore them as I search.

I meander up and down the block, around the corner, down side streets, looking, seeking, trying to catch the familiar yellow plastic coil. Where are you?

I check my arm. I used to write notes on my arm after seeing that movie Memento. It was a good idea. I couldn't misplace my arm. Could I?

After 15 minutes of searching, I suddenly remember. There it is! Right where I parked it last night. It's so obvious.

Tonight, I tell myself. I will remember to write a note.

And it starts all over again.