Things I Have Recently Discovered to be Lost
My quintessentially-fall orange scarf,
My favorite black velvet dress,
My Precious Metal Clay,
Our Nancy Drew 1930’s/ 1940’s DVD collection.
I wore the scarf early in the month of October, but couldn't find it toward the end. It's bright, but small, and could have easily been misplaced within the house. It may show up yet (passive, I know, but I've looked!), but it runs the risks of having been worn outside the house into the big, big world. The PMC was left in a box on my desk in the kitchen for about a year because I didn’t know what the heck to do with it. I finally cleaned off my desk and it is nowhere to be found. I’m guessing that we lent out the DVD’s, so I’ll do some asking around but, seriously – how does one lose a dress?
Picture this: You own two expensive velvet dresses – synthetic velvet, but they’re expensive nonetheless. You really like those velvet dresses. But you don’t like the expense and effort of getting the velvet dresses dry-cleaned. So you buy a wildly inexpensive synthetic velvet dress (at Sears – I’m not proud) in order to be able to dump it in the washing machine. You find that the dress is so neat looking, can be dressed up or down, actually fits well, is, dare I say, flattering, and is so comfortable to wear, that you amortize the cost per wear to something like $1.25 in the first year! This is your “go to” dress. In short, you love this dress. Then you lose it.
This is not like losing my keys or my glasses which I do approximately 5 times a month each. Those aren’t really lost. They’re just not exactly where they’re supposed to be. But a dress? There are really only so many places that a dress can be.
The worst part of being a loser is that I have a cocktail party to go to on Saturday night. An actual cocktail party – it says so right on the invitation! I would have loved to have worn a dress like the one on Betty Draper (the blonde) for the occasion, as I consider cocktail parties to be right out of the MadMen era, but I would have happily settled for my “go to” dress. Now it looks like I’ll be wearing my jeans, t-shirt, and marled wool sweater coat (also known as my house coat) because over the age of 28, one’s birthday suit is never in style.
If only these things had fit into a 3 Ring Binder.
Update: I really needed to access my inner Nancy Drew on this. Once I figured out the last time I wore the dress, with no less than photographic evidence, I found it hanging out with my husband’s tux in the downstairs closet. Bonus! My orange scarf was wedged in between two as of yet unworn winter coats in there (how it got there, I really can’t explain). The PMC ended up in my de facto sewing area, a corner of the abandoned school room which has become a catch-all for craft projects.
It just proves the adage: A place for everything and everything in its place. When I have more than one viable place to keep my stuff, I’m busted. Now regarding Nancy herself – I’m sticking with this one: Neither a borrower nor a lender be!
My favorite black velvet dress,
My Precious Metal Clay,
Our Nancy Drew 1930’s/ 1940’s DVD collection.
I wore the scarf early in the month of October, but couldn't find it toward the end. It's bright, but small, and could have easily been misplaced within the house. It may show up yet (passive, I know, but I've looked!), but it runs the risks of having been worn outside the house into the big, big world. The PMC was left in a box on my desk in the kitchen for about a year because I didn’t know what the heck to do with it. I finally cleaned off my desk and it is nowhere to be found. I’m guessing that we lent out the DVD’s, so I’ll do some asking around but, seriously – how does one lose a dress?
Picture this: You own two expensive velvet dresses – synthetic velvet, but they’re expensive nonetheless. You really like those velvet dresses. But you don’t like the expense and effort of getting the velvet dresses dry-cleaned. So you buy a wildly inexpensive synthetic velvet dress (at Sears – I’m not proud) in order to be able to dump it in the washing machine. You find that the dress is so neat looking, can be dressed up or down, actually fits well, is, dare I say, flattering, and is so comfortable to wear, that you amortize the cost per wear to something like $1.25 in the first year! This is your “go to” dress. In short, you love this dress. Then you lose it.
This is not like losing my keys or my glasses which I do approximately 5 times a month each. Those aren’t really lost. They’re just not exactly where they’re supposed to be. But a dress? There are really only so many places that a dress can be.
The worst part of being a loser is that I have a cocktail party to go to on Saturday night. An actual cocktail party – it says so right on the invitation! I would have loved to have worn a dress like the one on Betty Draper (the blonde) for the occasion, as I consider cocktail parties to be right out of the MadMen era, but I would have happily settled for my “go to” dress. Now it looks like I’ll be wearing my jeans, t-shirt, and marled wool sweater coat (also known as my house coat) because over the age of 28, one’s birthday suit is never in style.If only these things had fit into a 3 Ring Binder.
Update: I really needed to access my inner Nancy Drew on this. Once I figured out the last time I wore the dress, with no less than photographic evidence, I found it hanging out with my husband’s tux in the downstairs closet. Bonus! My orange scarf was wedged in between two as of yet unworn winter coats in there (how it got there, I really can’t explain). The PMC ended up in my de facto sewing area, a corner of the abandoned school room which has become a catch-all for craft projects.
It just proves the adage: A place for everything and everything in its place. When I have more than one viable place to keep my stuff, I’m busted. Now regarding Nancy herself – I’m sticking with this one: Neither a borrower nor a lender be!
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