seriously

[dragonlady7]

Part of the joys of having a clean house is that you can find things.
Right?
Z and I have been working hard this autumn to finally get ourselves organized and get the house into order. It's much tidier than it ever has been, and I have bee working pretty steadily so that while it gets messy now and then, it's quickly cleaned up and even tidier than it was. I don't always achieve this goal, but I have been working very, very hard at it, and making more progress than I'd thought I could. (Having Z even pay attention to the effort made a big difference. And since I have problems hoarding things, having him throw things out worked even better. Except that he really did throw out a bunch of stuff we needed, like the melted power adapter I was going to get a $90 refund for if I brought it in by the end of the year. Either he threw it out or he put it "somewhere", he doesn't know.)

But since the cleaning effort, we have lost a number of actually important things, which never, ever went missing more than a day or two while the house was a complete fucking disaster. So I'm wondering if we've upset some sort of house elves or something.

1) Z lost his debit card. This is wasn't a problem for a while, because he had no money anyway and so has just been living off my credit card, but at this point it's been gone over a month and it's getting really old. He can't run any errands because he has no money. How convenient. He keeps saying he'll "look for it". I have no idea how it could be this thoroughly missing, not to have turned up in over a month.

2) Then I lost my keys. I have several bags and then sometimes carry them in coat pockets. They routinely take me a few minutes to find, usually when I'm in a severe hurry. But, ominously, I have located the fob off my keychain, with the ring separated, but not the keys themselves. I have a foreboding that they fell out of my pocket or bag one night while I was out. But if that's the case... how did I get home? It's a mystery. Suffice to say, they're not in the house, the car, or the yard.
Never in my entire life have I ever lost my keys permanently.

3) Today I have gotten myself all prepared and psyched up to go grocery shopping. (I used to hate grocery shopping. Now I loathe it with a passion.) I am completely prepared to go, except I need to put my wallet into my pocket. It is not in my skate bag, which is where I put it last time I left the house and where, I swear to God, it was when I got home.
It is not in the other bag I brought to practice either. I remember I had both in there, but I stuck my cellphone in the Kleenex box, whence I retrieved it. So I have my cellphone.
It is not in the shoulder bag I often carry, where I didn't really expect it but it could have been.
it is not in the pockets of any of the garments I wore the last two times I left the house.
It is not in the couch.
It is not under the couch.
It is not on the kitchen table.
Not on my bedside stand, or the floor surrounding it (Remi has thrown almost everything on my bedside stand onto the floor to see what kind of sound it would make. She is also, incidentally, watching me tear around the house, following me closely and every time I pause, getting close enough so that I can hear her purring like a maniac).
Not in any of the pockets of the pants in the laundry basket.
Not on the kitchen counter. Not on the coffee or end tables near where I would've been sitting after coming home and would've taken it out because it's uncomfortable to sit on.

...

I can't use Z's wallet, he has no debit card, no credit cards, and no cash.
My bank sent me a new credit card which I could activate to use, but Z also does not possess a bonus card-- somehow, I realize, I have either gone alone or accompanied him on every grocery shopping trip he has made in the last three years.
No wonder I fucking loathe grocery shopping.

I suppose I could go on my own, but with my luck I'll get pulled over for something innocuous, and they'll demand to see my license and I'll have to admit I don't have it, and they'll throw the book at me.


So that's it. Fuck it. I won't ever clean the house again because what's the point? It only upsets the house elves, who then steal your fucking wallet and keys. At this rate I won't be able to get out of the actual house by the end of the month-- they must want me to stay, since I've been being so good to them. So I know what to do. I'm just going to lock myself in and live in squalor until the elves surrender my belongings just to get me out of there.

Comments

[kittyc1978.livejournal.com]

check the car...my stuff falls out of my pockets and into the crevice between the seat and the door all the time....