We’re all searching for something. Love. The meaning of life. A bottle of ear cleanser for the dog. After the previous steroid-fueled terrier earache recovery, Stockton and I are on high alert to any signs of pet ear issues. Ulysses was scratching an ear again, so we decided to clean it as a precaution.
Except where was the bottle? We looked everywhere. We admitted the possibility but unlikely chance one of us threw out the plastic bag containing the bottle. We retraced our actions.Opened cabinets, peeked under furniture. Eventually I had to tell Stockton to stop searching clothing drawers. He was truly overlooking.
We both felt annoyed by the prospect of replacing the lost treatment. I stood in the kitchen and touched the counter where the bag lived while Ulysses was healing the other week. Where is that plastic bag? I thought. Prep counter. Plastic bag. what other plastic bags are around. Cuisinart! The cuisinart was used last week. Check the cuisinart box.
Desperation fuels my curiosity. I fling open the pantry door. Stockton watches me. I half narrate aloud as I kneel on the floor, “It was on counter…the blades are in plastic bags…the weight would be similar…it could be…”
I unfold the box top and sink my arm inside the cardboard container. I fish through the packaging and seize a handful of plastic wrappers. I lift the whole lot up and squint at it.
I let out a high pitch shriek. I can just make out the form of a plastic bottle within the bundle of food processor blades. “Ha!” I cackle as Stockton lets himself fall to the floor, sighing heavily as Matilda licks his face. I throw my head back and laugh. Around here, things end up in the most unlikely places.