Scientists have recently discovered that our brains deteriorate at the age of 45.  That makes sense, because there is no other explanation for what occurred to me one night, other than that age had finally ruined my powers of recall.

After having dinner and doing some school work, I lay down on the couch to watch my favorite television show, the Amazing Race.  I reached for the clicker on the coffee table, but it wasn’t there in its usual spot.  I looked over at my computer desk because sometimes that’s where it ends up, but I didn’t see it there either. 

I got up from the couch and looked on the counter in the kitchen, because sometimes it can end up there, too, especially if I’m watching television and snacking, two activities that go well together.  When it wasn’t there, I went into my bedroom to see if I’d put it on my bed.  Nope.  Not there.   I looked again on my computer desk, shuffling around some of the papers. Not there. I scanned the living room again, but I didn’t see it anywhere so I went into the kitchen once again and scoured all over the counters a little more closely. I glanced around the living room and I thought aha, it’s in the cushions on the couch, so I pushed the coffee table aside and checked under all the pillows on the couch.  Not finding it, I then knelt on the floor (which was a task to get down I’ll tell you) and looked under the couch.  The damn thing wasn’t there.  I tore the other chair apart.   

I re-checked every place I’d already checked.  Because the clicker is long and thin, it sometimes slides under my p.c., so I lifted that up and looked under it.  Not there.  Then I looked again on the telephone table beside the computer, and then in the desk drawers in the telephone table.  Nothing.  I started to feel crazy by this time, thinking that the damn thing was lost for good, and that my damned program would be over by the time I found it anyway, so I went back into the kitchen and opened every cupboard and every drawer and slammed them shut again.  I went into the bathroom and checked all the drawers in there, pawing through everything and turning it upside down.  I went into my bedroom once again and looked around before flapping my bedcovers up and down and checking under the sheets to make sure that it wasn’t caught up somehow.  I knew I was really grasping at straws when I got down to check under the bed.  Nope.  Nothing but dustballs there.  I checked the table beside my bed and then inside all the drawers, then opened my cupboards and looked inside.  I was just wasting my time.  I went back into the dining room and checked another table that was covered in crap, and it wasn’t there, either.