I have a tiny history of obsessive behavior. Not a big one, like crazy stalker stuff where Mr. Letterman gets a restraining order against me even though it SO didn't happen like he said in court, but a little, itty-bitty miniature one, like I can't stand the thought of or the actuality of losing anything. My palms are sweating just writing about it.
Said head beast crept out yesterday morning, when I stumbled into the kitchen upon waking to get the day started. Cats' Brita water: check. Wet food for Crick with tiny pill that she will gum and spit out anyway: check. Trash bag for cat food container: hmmm. It must be here somewhere. I just bought a new box of kitchen bags at Target last week.
Cue whatever obsessive music would be, probably a mix between the Halloween theme and maybe one of Dick Marx's harder ditties.
All time and tasks, including feeding poor Bug who stood anxiously next to his dry bowl, were put on hold. Ye shall not escape me, trash bags. Mama will find you.
I searched the kitchen. I pulled the phone book and the bundt cupcake pan out of the cabinets. I checked the silverware drawer. At this point, I do believe I began sweating. And oh yes, I checked the fridge. And, if you must know, the oven.
Now intoxicated by the hunt, I moved to the bathroom. Here, baggie baggie baggie. Not in the linen closet, under the sink, or in the washing machine, for the love of God. THE BEDROOM! Not in the nightstand drawers, under the bed, in any of the cat litter bags or under the folded towels. The hamper, of course! Rationally, trash bags would want to hide with dirty underwear and jeans!
The insanity ceased long enough for me to feed the now nearly-barking Bug, get my body showered and ready for work, at which time I raided every orifice of the Sentra and subsequently my office and the privacy of my startled workmates. I mean really; hadn't they ever gone psych hospital over a 15 pack of garbage bags? Sheesh.
DID I MENTION THESE THINGS WERE PROBABLY LESS THAN FOUR BUCKS WORTH OF STRETCHY PLASTIC? AND THAT THEY WEREN'T EVEN A NAME BRAND? AND THAT I HAD TO GO BACK TO TARGET YESTERDAY ANYWAY?
I'm still wondering if maybe Bug ate them.
Said head beast crept out yesterday morning, when I stumbled into the kitchen upon waking to get the day started. Cats' Brita water: check. Wet food for Crick with tiny pill that she will gum and spit out anyway: check. Trash bag for cat food container: hmmm. It must be here somewhere. I just bought a new box of kitchen bags at Target last week.
Cue whatever obsessive music would be, probably a mix between the Halloween theme and maybe one of Dick Marx's harder ditties.
All time and tasks, including feeding poor Bug who stood anxiously next to his dry bowl, were put on hold. Ye shall not escape me, trash bags. Mama will find you.
I searched the kitchen. I pulled the phone book and the bundt cupcake pan out of the cabinets. I checked the silverware drawer. At this point, I do believe I began sweating. And oh yes, I checked the fridge. And, if you must know, the oven.
Now intoxicated by the hunt, I moved to the bathroom. Here, baggie baggie baggie. Not in the linen closet, under the sink, or in the washing machine, for the love of God. THE BEDROOM! Not in the nightstand drawers, under the bed, in any of the cat litter bags or under the folded towels. The hamper, of course! Rationally, trash bags would want to hide with dirty underwear and jeans!
The insanity ceased long enough for me to feed the now nearly-barking Bug, get my body showered and ready for work, at which time I raided every orifice of the Sentra and subsequently my office and the privacy of my startled workmates. I mean really; hadn't they ever gone psych hospital over a 15 pack of garbage bags? Sheesh.
DID I MENTION THESE THINGS WERE PROBABLY LESS THAN FOUR BUCKS WORTH OF STRETCHY PLASTIC? AND THAT THEY WEREN'T EVEN A NAME BRAND? AND THAT I HAD TO GO BACK TO TARGET YESTERDAY ANYWAY?
I'm still wondering if maybe Bug ate them.
Labels: Men I'd like to keep in a box under my bed, Stuff that's wrong with me
17 Comments:
I do the same thing, then begin to wonder if I've actually bought them or just hallucinated buying them so vividly that I convinced myself it was real.
you mean to tell me behaviour like that is NOT normal....eeeeeeeeeeeks!!!! I got it badddddddddd then.....:)
Now you know....said trip back to Target to get more bags...will also result in you finding the ones you bought in the first place....probably the nano-second you get home!!
Did you check the back seat of your car or wherever you threw the bags? I had the same thing happen to me a few months ago with a carton of cherry tomatoes - I KNEW I'd bought them, but I'll be darned if I could find them. Three weeks later, I did . . . in the trunk of the car, where they'd slid out of the Trader Joe's bag. Very not pretty.
Oh, that's NEVER (eyes rolling) happened to me. Don't worry, Kris. You're perfectly abnormal, like the rest of us!
no, I am like this too, except I don't blame it on losing things as much as I just HATE IT when things DON'T MAKE SENSE.
I lose everything! And as soon as I find one thing, I've lost whatever I was holding when I started looking for the first thing. I blame it on having kids. I can't even complete a sentence without being interupted anymore. You're very normal.
I forgot to tell you that I borrowed them.
D'OH!
It is a loss of control, which certain blondies of the world loathe and despise. (Including myself in this elite group, bien sur . . .)
Bugs eat everything.
i hate when that happens. i wonder where they will turn up?
Well...at least I have a good idea for your belated birthday gift now...
this happens to me after a night of drinking. i start asking myself the laundry list of questions, "do i have my purse, my keys? my credit card? did i say something i might regret?"
did you check the freezer? just thought i would ask....
The car is defintely a good look-see spot.
Before there was ever anyone who rode in my passenger seat on a regular basis, I would lose things to the great abyss that is the gap between passenger seat and passenger door.
OR! Invite us all over for an X-mas/bag-find party... We'll surely help you rip the place apart.
tee hee.
I can't tell you for sure what happened to them, but I can tell you that the other day I came across a 22-lb bag of Parrot food in my house. And no, we have no pets.
Maybe it's Newton's law of Conservation of Groceries and Other Notions. People lose, people gain. In the end, it's all the same. (Christ, there's a bumper sticker million in there.)
A few weeks ago I lost a necklace and it was driving me C-R-A-Z-Y. Finally I found it when I put my backpack through the washer and dryer and found it in the lint trap. The necklace was ruined, but somehow I was really happy, because finally I knew where it had been all that time.
It's a disease.
Why do you have a bundt cupcake pan? Has it ever been used?
Btw, remind me Thursday to bring some litter box liners that I have in the cupboard.
Oh they'll show up, Kris...
Right when you buy more.
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