This is an installment in Suzette Andujar’s weekly column “As I Was Saying”
I can be very forgetful. I was looking for a box of elbow macaroni so I could make a quick dinner and I couldn’t find it anywhere. I know I bought it because I double checked the receipt and it was printed clear as day. I went back to my car and couldn’t find it and then I started to worry that I left it in the cart while I was loading my car. I threw in the towel, resigned to the fact that cereal was now on the menu. I opened the fridge to grab the milk and gasped.
I found the box of elbow macaroni.
This madness continued on separate occasions. I found a stick of butter in the cabinet. I couldn’t find my keys until they fell out of a jacket I hadn’t worn for at least a week. I realized I am not just ‘very forgetful,’ but there is actually a troll in my house whose sole purpose in life was to confuse me by hiding my stuff.
Don’t be confused. This is not the same troll who steals your missing socks. I’m not going crazy, I know exactly how this plays out: I’m in a hurry to get to school so I quickly make a bowl of cereal and leave. While I’m gone, the troll hobbles in from its hiding spot in the wall, cackles and puts the milk in the cabinet and the box of cereal in the fridge. It probably stops and chats with the Sock Troll and they have a hearty laugh at my expense.
This troll doesn’t just work with food; it moves around nail polish, money, books, the list goes on! When I look for objects in a frenzy, it sits back with a mug of hot cocoa (probably mine!) and snickers. I received a few suggestions to ease my frustration (like it was my fault or something), so I started to put sticky notes on things but they never worked because they fell off. I heard I should stop looking so hard because the item would show up when I’m not looking for it, but I cannot stop my quest! It becomes a fever, this need to find the lost item, and it cannot be controlled. The living room becomes a casualty of the search when sofa cushions are tossed carelessly on the floor. The only benefit of the aftermath was I found some coins and pens, but the cycle continued. I put a brand new pack of gum in my purse and I found the purse in the trash can. In. The. Trashcan. I found the gum in the washing machine. In. The. Washing. Machine. The switching must end and sanity must be restored.
Are you suffering from a surprising string of absent-mindedness? Where is the craziest place you’ve found something you were looking for? Just be confident in the fact that you’re not forgetful, you’re just a victim of a very mischievous prankster.