Wherever Are They?

 

I think it's well understood that as we get older we can find it harder to recall information and easier to misplace items. Just like the rest of the body, the brain begins to show its age too. I'm fortunate in that, to date, I have always had a good memory but, like everyone, I can and do mislay things.

Experience over the years has suggested, however, that most things I lose are invariably found in the first place I look, although rarely on the first occasion that I look there. Commonsense suggests, of course, that they would hardly be mislaid if I immediately found them where I thought they were.

Historically the main items that go walk about in my particular case are keys and spectacles. Recently I was unable to find my house keys. I was certain that I had them when we moved and the first place I searched was my gym bag after a hunch that I'd put them there on my first gym visit after our move. Despite emptying the bag of its contents, they were not there and searching through my handbags, packing cases and coat pockets proved fruitless too. For 3 weeks I persisted in my quest, periodically emptying out all my bags again and again whilst checking and re-checking every pocket and potential hiding or dropping space. Nothing!

My forgetfulness complex grew so much that when I was in London and Dilly lost her keys, I felt personally responsible.  Haunted, my hunting continued upon my return but all to no avail and emptying that gym bag almost became a ritual rather than a dedicated and purposeful examination. 

One day last week, I finally resolved to admit defeat and planned to get new keys cut that afternoon. As I walked along the path into the gym, bag slung over my shoulder, I was mentally preparing the order of events for my visit to town so as to incorporate key-cutting within the schedule. As I did so, my hand slipped down into the pocket of the bag neurotically checking that the car keys were safe. Suddenly it touched something that felt very like my key ring wrapped within the lanyard that holds my gym pass.

Unbelievably and despite emptying that bag on a half to a full dozen occasions, my keys were there and like all good pranksters had decided to show themselves just at the point where the whole episode was no longer a joke. Faith in my "they are always in the first place you look" mantra was restored and I no longer felt like a victim of memory theft. However, and knowing that I had been looking in the right place all along, how did it take 3 weeks to finally establish their whereabouts? Is there a phase of retirement or ageing where, memory intact, we just become slipshod and haphazard in our inspection techniques? When I thought I was being systematic and organised in my investigation, how come I was actually flunking it repeatedly? Was I just rummaging rather than, as I thought, meticulously conducting a forensic examination? Is it a one off mishap or a harsh warning of the pitfalls that can disturb a contented retirement life?

(Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay)