Hey if any of my real-life people who read this get strange letters* from "me," don't be alarmed: because I HAVE LOST MY ADDRESS BOOK. This rates a 6 on the Muppet Alien Freakout Scale** because it taps a direct line into at least three of my most cherished neuroses. One, I am a touch obsessive and so cannot let go of the idea that it must be here somewhere, did I look under the couch? Did I look real good? Maybe I should check through the file box one more time, because I could have missed it and it must. Be. Here. Somewhere. Did I look in the bathroom? Maybe I left it in the linen closet somehow? Because. IT MUST BE HERE SOMEWHERE. CHECK THE OVEN AGAIN. So round and round my house I go, looking at things that do not contain address books no matter how many times I poke them.
I am also feeling paranoid and exposed, because my stuff is...out there somewhere. Not that there was anything particularly interesting or damning in my address book anyway: no credit card numbers or true confessions, just, duh, addresses, and a list of movies I want to watch. But still. My stuff is floating around in the world, to be picked over by whoever might come across it, with no framework or context to put it in. I'm not there to defend my desire to watch Hitch-Hike as the choice of a completist, dammit, nor to explain that just because I've never used the datebook section does not mean that I have no life, I'm just not a datebook kind of girl.
These two things, however, are just feelings, and they'll pass. More ominous is the affirmation that this event has brought to my inner packrat. Sitting amongst the piles of crap in my house is not just the address book I used before the lost one, but also the one before that. And now that insistent little voice that makes me keep old catalogs and empty containers is all smug. "See? I told you you would need those someday, and now look! I've saved you with my brilliant retention! Now let's hear no more of this 'get rid of the pants with nail polish spilled all down the one leg' nonsense!" I will never hear the end of it. I am surely doomed.
*I know. I know that it would be strange to get a letter from me at all, smartass. I am aware that I suck. Thanks for sharing.
**We really need to institute this. You remember those alien muppets from Sesame Street, right? The ones who went "Eep. Eep. Eep." with vast aplomb until the phone rang and then they freaked their shit right out? I loved those guys. Anyway, I figure that one could break that down into ten levels of freakout, based on speed and volume of "eeps," and you'd have yourself a thing, there.
Posted by hilatron at January 7, 2004 02:57 PM | TrackBackhey, i always think i've lost things forever and then michelle looks for them in the exact place i looked 10 times and there they are. so know i know it's just that the gnomes have it in for me.
Posted by: tree at January 8, 2004 07:10 AMThank you for making me remember the "Eep Eep" Muppets. You rock.
I hope you find your address book. Have you checked the microwave?
Posted by: She-Dork at January 8, 2004 08:05 AMI lost my address book, and I didn't get over it for six months. Then I finally adjusted, and I found it. In a box in the back of my closet. Weird, eh? But the worst was that I lost a little notebook I keep my to do lists and grocery lists in at the mall. I feel like there is some kid poking through my todo lists and snickering at the "make girly doctor appointment" and "buy tampons" scribbled in there. And, oh, god, I think I have some really bad stream of consciousness poetry in there, too.
You are not alone, my friend.
Posted by: elena at January 8, 2004 01:18 PMi think those muppets scared me. not as much as UNCLE DEADLY though!
my pack rat tendencies are *so* bad that when i go to dallas, my mom confiscates my purse and picks out the papers and change that accumulate at the bottom until the whole thing weighs about 5 pounds.
Posted by: jenni at January 8, 2004 01:57 PMI know this is annoying, but that's why I finally got a handheld. If you lose the thing, all the info is stored on your computer and with one button push you can put it on a new handheld. I have to admit though that I miss the satisfying feeling of rewriting all my addresses into a new book once I'd crossed out and re-written new address to capacity.
Posted by: EV at January 8, 2004 03:02 PMOh, I can understand the anxiety. I hope you find it!
Posted by: Ismat at January 9, 2004 01:30 AMTry the fridge--no, don't just peek in, dig into the crisper. I've learned that if there's ice cream in your purse, chances are that your address book is in the freezer. What about under your bed? Under the seat in your car? Did you leave it on top of the car when you left home one morning? My dad did that once with his coffee and it didn't come off until he got to the highway.
About the muppets--I watched that show every chance I got, mostly in the hopes of seeing those guys. And the musical number pinball. I still remember the tune. Thanks for the memories :)
Posted by: Lynn at January 11, 2004 03:40 AM