About a week ago, while getting ready for school, I was hit with an unexpected and unwelcome obstacle. The black t-shirt I had been planning on wearing, one of my staples from H&M, had apparently not made its way back into my drawer from the washing machine. Still more unpleasant, after checking in the washing machine, the dryer, the laundry basket, all of my drawers, etc etc etc, I came to the unpleasant conclusion that my shirt had gone missing.
You know the timeless missing sock syndrome? How both socks go into the wash at the same time, and yet one of the socks always goes missing? As a kid, I used to wonder if there was some sort of secret world in the washing machine where all the socks used to go. I am no closer to reaching a conclusion now, so it still seems like a definite possibility!
Anyway, back to my shirt. I figured the shirt could not have gotten into the exclusive single-sock-club, so I really did not know where it could be. I asked my mom if she had it by mistake and she replied that no, she didn't, but maybe it was with the opera tickets. This was not at all reassuring - let me explain.
My dad has this habit of keeping important things "safe" - in other words, hiding them in some obscure, illogical place. I'm not talking about passports, SIN cards or anything really important - those have their own place in the safe. What I'm talking about are things such as, say, season tickets to the opera.
Many years ago, my parents bought season tickets to the opera. They were really excited about this, and at that time when you bought season tickets they physically gave you all the tickets to hold on to. My dad identified these as being important documents indeed, so they had to be kept safe until needed in the future. To this day, well over ten years later, we have never found the opera tickets. It's become something of a running joke in my family - whenever anything goes missing, we say "maybe it's with the opera tickets".
Thankfully, my t-shirt eventually turned up. I can't speak for the opera tickets, though!
There's similar problems over at my house. Steve is always "tidying up" which really means he takes things and puts them in the most obscure spots. I'm used to it now, but the frustrating part is that whenever something goes missing, he can't remember where he put it/he denies ever moving it in the first place.
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