I just can't find it!

I'm writing this as a public service for those of you that haven't gotten to this point in life. I'm not blaming it on the age thing, because there's more to this than just aging.

This happened to me this morning, so it's fresh in my mind. I'm in the middle, actually the end, of a kitchen remodel. The old kitchen has looked the same for the last 20 or so years. After careful deliberation I decided the whole thing had to be gutted and reconfigured into something for the 21st century and not some vintage 1960's Beaver Cleaver Mom's kitchen. I've been writing about the kitchen remodel and the education I've gotten regarding new kitchen stuff, enlightening, to say the least (also "lightning" my pocketbook at killer speed as well).

Today, while hubby slept, I decided it was time to clean up the appliances. I started with the glass topped stove. I put the polish goop on it and did the best I could. I realized I needed to get one of the scrapers I use to get the little stuck-on stuff off. The problem with that was I couldn't remember where I put the widget thing I use for this purpose.

My search took me into the depths of the garage where all the contractor's tools and equipment is being temporarily stored. I had put all the contents of the old drawers and cabinets in the garage in the interim. As the new cabinets were installed I emptied the boxes holding all the essential contents of the old cabinets into the new ones. Let me tell you this, not everything went into the new cabinets, I had some pretty used up crap I was still holding on to (why? I don't know. You'd think I was raised during the depression...that's the one in the 30's not the one we're currently in... Why we all keep junk is beyond me...). The crap went into the garage sale box (like someone is going to buy this junk?).

I pulled apart every box in the garage. I stood on ladders looking for the stupid thing on the top shelves. Then I decided that &*^% hubby must have seen the thing, moved it to some other spot. I had some very choice words for the man of my former dreams, who at that point was dreaming in his #$%^^&%% bed, as I was looking for the #%$%^&& widget thing to clean my stove.

I went into his work room in the basement. I tore through all the cartons, tool boxes, and shelving. As I did that I began to straighten out the mess down there, finding all kinds of goodies I could use in the new kitchen. I figured if the #$%^& creepy hubby could move or take MY widget, I could appropriate some of his little organizer things. I classified this as the Right of Imminent Domain. I, being the "imminent", "domain" being the new kitchen rehab.

Still not finding the widget, I went into my studio and searched all the nooks and crannies in that hovel. No luck finding the widget thing, (you know what I'm talking about, it's a razor blade in a plastic holder). By this time I was sure when I found the damned thing I'd use it to slit my wrist, or better yet, hubby's, since I KNEW he moved the &^%*@ thing.

Upstairs I trudged, carrying all the new found goodies from the basement work room. My new cabinets are the kind that go to the ceiling. They are really tall, I'm not. I have a convertible chair/ladder that works great for me to climb so I can reach the top cabinet. I almost get a nose bleed on the top stair, but that's OK. The cabinets look cool, so I'll deal with that...

Up on the ladder, I decided to check every cabinet for the offending widget. Peering into the cabinets, I decided they needed to be better organized. When you get something like new cabinets it takes months to finally settle on where things are best suited. There's lots of movement of stuff as the stuff gets settled in it's new home. Nothing is permanent for quite a while.

By now, three hours have passed, trying to find the %$#%&* widget. I could have used: a knife, a razor, a spatula or probably some other utensil, but no, I had to have the &^*^%$$ widget.

I've used every dirty word in my vocabulary. I've called the Father of my children, the love of my life, my best friend, every rotten expletive I know, all over a $2.00 little plastic razor thing. All because I won't use any other thing but that ^%$%$* widget for this job. What's that all about?

I lose things on a regular basis, oh there in the house, they're not lost forever, but when I need them, they're lost. This was different though, I knew HE moved it. I almost gave up looking, grabbed a pot of ice cold water to throw at him in the bed.

As I gave up the quest for the widget to get the pot I was going to fill, a sudden glimmer of remembrance came fleeting through my thought processes...hmmm...I remembered putting the widget thing into a plastic bag, then dropping it into a drawer. I stopped in my pot grab stance, and looked down at the drawers. I opened the bottom drawer, and there in all it's glory was the baggie with the widget. I think I'll go give hubby a little peck on the cheek.......