You know that feeling of not being able to remember for the life of you what you did with an item?  Where you think you left it is not where it is, and where it is suddenly becomes your all consuming thought.

Yeah, well, we have a Kindle.  We use it a lot for quick internet searches, looking up the weather, getting recipes while cooking.  It sits in our kitchen and is much easier than getting out the laptop.

So, I used it over the weekend.  Caleb comes home on Monday and asks, “Where’s the Kindle?”  I answer, “Probably upstairs by the bed.”  Note, I said “probably.”  I mean, I used it up there at one point, so that’s where it should be.  Right?

It wasn’t there.  It wasn’t under the bed or in between the mattress or behind the bed.

It wasn’t in our library.  It wasn’t under the couch or on the book shelves or behind the book shelves.

It wasn’t in the bathroom.  (I use it in there sometimes, ok?!)  It wasn’t in the storage cabinet.  It wasn’t in the drawers.

It wasn’t in the kitchen.  It wasn’t in the frig, under or behind the microwave, in the cabinets, on the shelves, behind the bread box (yes, I looked in all those places plus more).

In fact, it wasn’t in the car or the family room or in the laundry room or in the guest room or in the front room.  It wasn’t in our pile of renovation tools and paint cans.  It wasn’t in the creepy basement.  It. Wasn’t. Anywhere.  …and I started to whimper.

I called My Man a couple days later when he was at work.  “I think I threw it away,” whined I.  I had a pile of newspapers on the table and threw the whole stack away during the weekend.  And the trash went out (as in: into the trash truck) on Monday.  My dear Man.  I told him he should be mad at me.  He wasn’t.  Not at all.  Well, I was mad at me.

So I went to bed still thinking of the case of the missing Kindle. Think, think, think.  I woke up thinking.  My brain hurt.

Wait.  There might be a chance…

…there might be a chance that Caleb took out that particular trash bag after the trash truck came.

I came home from work and peered into the dumpster.  Now, I’ve dumpster dived but never to this extent.  Seriously, I had cleaned a couple things out of the fridge, so it was slimy and smelly.  Banana peels, asparagus ends, coffee grounds, all the nastiest trash a person might have.  Oh, and it had been out there for several VERY rainy days.  It did not smell or feel purdy.


But good things come to those who dumpster dive.  I have always thought so.


Yes, tucked in between  pile of dry, clean newspapers lay our dear, dear Kindle.  *sigh*  Life is good again.  (Although I have reason to question my sanity.)