I've never been much of a conspiracy theorist.
Moon landing? Totally happened. 9/11? Bin Laden and Al Queda, plain and simple. And I don't lose any sleep at night thinking that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.
But lately I have to confess that I'm becoming increasingly gripped with paranoia that a nefarious force is at work in my life. Don't tell anyone, ok? But it's got to be...gremlins.
How else to explain the regularity with which items in my life disappear, as if swallowed up by black holes? Where else could Ethan's "Touchdown" pajamas be? Where in God's name is that years-old Tiffany's gift card, which managed to vanish right after I was (shockingly) actually able to locate it and send Tiffany's a form confirming that I did, in fact, still have it? And why is that when I search and search for the missing cap to a marker, the very moment I finally locate the cap I can no longer find the marker itself??
I'm disorganized. Horribly. Pathologically. I know that. I spend ridiculous amounts of time looking for things. But there's a whimsical quality to my searches, one that has me believing someone is watching and laughing. It's different from the way, that, say, my husband misplaces his wallet and car keys all the time. How, you ask?
Well, I once was determined to reprogram my universal remote. You know, where you do that godawful thing where you try all the different codes to make it actually turn the tv on and off? But I ended up unwittingly acting out what must have looked like an Abbott and Costello routine. As soon as I put my hands on the long lost remote instructions, I swear to God that the remote itself was then nowhere to be found. And as soon as I put my finger on the remote, the instructions would mysteriously vaporize into thin air. This went on for a truly unreasonable period of time. I started to wonder if I were on Candid Camera.
Yesterday, en route to my in-laws' house, I became convinced I had left my sunglass clip at the pool. It's custom-made to fit my glasses; losing it would be a serious pain in the ass. So, upon arriving at their house, I nervously popped the trunk and scrounged through the pool bag. I was so relieved to find it that I did what any normal person would do: I put it in a pocket inside my purse, so I wouldn't misplace it again.
And now I have absolutely no idea where it is. Turned the bag inside out. It's just...gone.
And that's why I think it's gremlins. They saw my concern, the ensuing relief, and...laughed. They mocked my attempt to be pre-emptively organized.
To wit: A few weeks ago, I wanted to return a shirt to Macy's. I was so proud of myself because I actually located the Macy's receipt, no small feat in my world. Or so I thought. Because only after I zoomed up to Macy's during the one 20 minute window I had free that day, and then waited in line at the register, did I realize that I was holding the receipt for something else, and that I'd wasted precious babysitter time on a useless errand. Take that, Miss "I'm Actually Going to File My Receipts So I Can Locate Them."
And here's where the Gremlins come in.
Because the very next day -- the very next day! -- I put on a pair of shorts and felt something in the pocket. And wouldn't you know, it was the receipt for that damned shirt. The weird part, though, is that the receipt was dated February 15. When I think I can pretty safely assume I wasn't wearing those shorts. How did it get in there? I have no earthly idea.
But I think he might.
Go on, laugh. I dare you. But then don't expect to find your car keys.