I keep a neat little (4 x 6) spiralbound notebook for writing my lists, for taping business cards of handyfolk, for jotting phone numbers of Customer Service and the reference numbers it generates, for keeping track of books I want to read, music I want to listen to...and quotes that come across my life. It replaced a rather ad hoc system that involved tearing corners off the nearest electric bill or piecing together shreds of business cards from the lint trap of the dryer.
The single rule is that the notebook can never leave the house. And so it is a brilliant way to keep everything in one place.
Except when you lose it.
Because everything is in one place.
Because I slavishly follow rules, I know its here somewhere. After a month of looking in every possible and impossible hiding place, I finally gave in and bought a replacement. Much to my sorrow, because I love leafing back through the shorthand version of my life. I would show you a photo of it...
But I can't find my camera either.
I used to think the thing I hated most about aging was the fumble for reading glasses to see anything smaller than my dogs. But since the glasses have become a permanent facial fixture, I am nominating Lost Object Syndrome in its place.
