Brain. Oh I mean credit card. (Now did your mind go somewhere else? Naughty. Naughty.)
But back to my lost card. My husband is about to take a big trip. A trip North. Very North. Needless to say, life in Texas has not necessarily prepared us for all the contingencies of the Northernmost regions of the world. So yes, we pulled out the old reliable for a few necessities.
Unfortunately, I pulled it out while we were in the kitchen, unloading groceries (me), cooking dinner (said husband), and bickering (children). At some point I believed that I gave my husband the card. Except that when he was about to head out, he asked for it. WHAAAAT?
I gave it to you. No, you didn't. Yes, I did. No, you didn't. So on and so forth. So we start looking. And looking. And looking. For hours.
Now I have one of those houses with a Bermuda Triangle quality. Not because it's messy. In fact, we were expecting company so we had cleaned all day. Yet things just seem to disappear. So after looking in all the obvious places, we looked in the less obvious places. After all the less obvious places, we looked in the stupid places. And after stupid places, well... I just started to lose it.
Had I created a memory? Because that means you're full-on, padded cell, white jacket crazy. It is entirely different than forgetting something. If I had not given it to my husband, what had I done? And why did I think that I had?
So just shy of pure "Gaslight", I had pulled out the microwave, I pulled out the stove, and the frig. I cleaned places that nobody cleans because nobody sees it. Because nobody loses their credit card, where? Drum roll, please.
In the Ziploc box. Yes, you read that right. The Ziploc box. It seems if we could have rewound the tape of our lives, we would have seen that while I was dividing up the huge pack of beef (that I got an awesome deal on) for the freezer and my husband and I were trying (and I do mean trying) to have an important conversation about this trip while my children were simultaneously fighting and calling my name every two minutes, I picked up the card with the extra Ziploc bags and promptly deposited them and the card into the box.
When my husband found it, I literally dropped to the ground. I cried. I'm not CRAZY. I'm just a very distracted mom. Very distracted. And I need to slow down and not try to multi-task so much.
So lesson learned.
Well, for today. But I am a mom. And we are expected to do more things in one day than any human is capable of and it is not just possible but entirely likely that I will attempt to do more than one thing at a time.
But for today, I will try to do better.
P.S. The good thing that came out of it -- my husband saw how thin I was stretched and made me a very large White Russian and a hot bath. So as they say, all's well that ends well.