Mo is packing for Seattle. She’s looking for her woolly shirt. Seattle apparently has this thing called “cold.” The shirt is nowhere to be found. She gives up and leaves without it.
BK and I sleep together as our numbers dwindle. The next morning, I hear my phone do the two-beep message thing. I know it has to be somewhere in the bed, but I have no idea where. I grope around in the dark. Nothing. More grope. More nothing. I get up and turn on the light. This does not make BK happy. I pull off the blankets and shake them out. Nothing. Pillows fly. More nothing. I look between the mattress and the frame. You never know. Nothing. This is totally impossible, because I KNOW I heard the phone go off on the bed. Then I look on the floor between the headboard and the wall. And there it is! The woolly shirt. But no phone. We have no land line, so I can’t call the phone to find it. I send Mo a message via computer asking her to call, but she must have gone back to sleep. I give up and go back to bed. I make the mistake of petting BK, who isn’t really a people person. She immediately jumps off the bed. And there’s the phone. She was sleeping on it.
Mo calls the next day to say that um, er, she must have left her Kindle on the plane. (I wonder how many eReaders have been left in seat pockets since their invention? Airline lost and founds must look like the Amazon warehouse.) She has looked everywhere. It’s gone. Oh, well, I tell her. Probably time for a new one anyhow.
I can’t find my wool running cap. I’m thinking I left it in Mo’s car, which is now parked in San Antonio, after last week’s race. I look everywhere — suitcase, running pile, living room, bk room, nothing. Damned if I’m going to run in the cold without my hat. This is an excellent excuse. I give up and pet BK, who’s sitting on the couch. She immediately jumps down (did I mention she’s not really a people person?), revealing the wool cap beneath her. I now suspect she’s doing this on purpose.
Mo calls again. She has lost one of her favorite earrings — a little guy with a turquoise inset from a cool Phoenix artist. They’ve looked everywhere. She is crushed. She has devised a plot in which she will mail the earring back to the artist and ask her to re-create another one. I consider pointing out that they sell perfectly good earrings at the Target in Corpus, but one does not mess with an arteest in mourning in the morning. She and her sister spend two days tearing her house apart to no avail. Oh, well.
Mo comes home, without her earring or her Kindle. The only thing she is ABSOLUTELY sure of is that she has her wallet. She comes inside and double checks. Wallet, yes. At least the weekend wasn’t a total loss.
This morning, she’s getting ready for work. And can’t find her wallet. She is stumped, because she knows she had it last night. She digs through her suitcase, and there it is — her Kindle.
She eventually finds her wallet as well. Putting on her fleece jacket, she puts her hand in her pocket, and there it is. The earring.
I have no idea how Mo and I ever found each other. I just hope I never lose her …