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I am losing my mind. I can’t find my driver’s license, the raincoat I’ve been looking for for weeks turned up out of the blue on top of a basket of shoes I moved just a few days ago, a pair of black capris are also missing…what the heck is going on? I’m the one who usually knows where stuff is, not the one blindsided by things winking in and out of this universe randomly. Maybe my son’s homework really was just disappearing between home and classroom, like he said. Do you see how this is causing me to doubt myself? My face hurts from the perplexed wrinkle between my eyebrows I have been sporting all day, and my mental processes feel like they are slogging through warm used chewing gum. I can’t keep compulsively checking the same places for the missing items, and there are no new places to look. I think I will go teach my older son to parallel park (because THAT will be relaxing,) and maybe while I’m gone the same wormhole my raincoat traveled through will bring back my license and my pants. Magic thinking. Have you got any better ideas?

Lynnette

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that you wore the black capris to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine. Being the youthful-looking sprite that you are, you confidently stuck your driver’s license in your pants pocket in anticipation of being carded. While you were there, you ran into your friend Jane who complimented you on how flattering those black capris were and after the appropriate amount of sucking up, she casually asked if she could borrow them for a function she had to go to the following afternoon. Of course, you replied, but I don’t know that I’ll have time to wash them first because when I drink wine, I don’t feel like doing laundry. Not a problem, she said. If you can drop them by my house, I’ll wash them myself. By this time, you’re at the checkout and the clerk is waiting impatiently to peruse your driver’s license which you hand over while remarking to Jane that the black capris will be in her mailbox when she gets home. You rush home, change clothes, fold the capris (which still have your driver’s license in the pocket) and walk them four houses up the street to Jane’s house where you stuff them in the aforementioned mailbox. She washes them and wears them to her event, garnering compliments from everyone she runs into. So, where’s your stuff? Your driver’s license is in the bottom of Jane’s dryer where it landed after falling out of the pocket. And your capris are hanging in Jane’s closet because after getting all that positive attention for wearing them, there’s no way in hell she’s giving them back to you. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? And there are always new places to look.

Handy Tip for Teaching Parallel Parking: Take your car and your husband’s car and park them at the curb in front of your house with just enough space in between for your son’s car with about six inches leeway, front or back. Then make him practice parallel parking in between them, letting him know that if he hits either car, he will not only be grounded for life but will have to pay for all damages out of his own pocket. That’s how I learned how to parallel park, and trust me, it works. I can fit my vehicle into parking spaces that require a shoe horn to get it out. It may take me 20 minutes and a lot of backing and forthing to do it, but I can do it. Let us know how it works out, O.K.?

Kelly

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