Where is it?

Why is the thing for which we are searching always found in the last place we look?
Well, because after we find it, we stop looking, of course!

*********

So, the boys in my life have developed a new and annoying habit.  OK, not so new for some of them.  And I suppose it's possible that it's not so new for all of them but I just haven't noticed before.

They ask me where things are. 

All 4 of them have decided that I know where everything in the world is.  It's true that I know a lot of things, including where most of the items in our home are supposed to be, however, in real life, it is somewhat rare that everything in our home is actually located where it's supposed to be.

What am I saying?  I don't think it has ever happened that absolutely everything in our home is where it's supposed to be.  Maybe long, long ago, in a land far, far away, before we had children. It's entropy's fault, really.  And while some days I am able to muster up the energy to battle it, I know it's a losing proposition.  Entropy has infinitely more resources than I do.

So, when I'm looking for something, know what I do first?  I look where it's supposed to be.  It's a good first step, right?  A resonable first step?  I mean, it's possible that it actually landed in its correct location.

Know what my boys do when they're looking for something?  They ask me where it is.  And here's the problem.  When someone asks me where something is, I assume that they've already taken that reasonable first step, that is, they've looked where it supposed to be.  And, if they've taken that step, and still need to ask me that question, the item was not where it belongs.  So if I want to answer the question, I need to start thinking of other places it could be.

Let me just pause here, to ponder: why in the world have I been elected finder of stuff?  Really?  Can't we all just keep track of our own things?  Maybe it's my fault.  Maybe after so many years of me telling them that if they don't put it away, whatever it is, I will put it somewhere, and I may not remember where I put it, they've decided that if anyone knows it would be me.  I mean, I'm the one who insists on moving things away from where they so carefully dumped them out in plain view.  I'm the one who insists that Roger's boots do not belong in the kitchen, and AKD's RC heli does not belong on top of the fireplace, and MC's Cub Scout uniform does not belong on the living room floor, and Sawblock's lunchbox does not belong on our bed.  Anyway...

And so, being the nice mama/wife that I am, I start looking for whatever it is, not looking where it's supposed to be, because any reasonable person would have already eliminated that possibility before enlisting aid.

Apparently, the boys I live with are not reasonable people, because when the item is found, minutes, or hours, or days, later, more often than not, it is where it was supposed to be.  Ugh.  All that wasted effort.  No wonder the floor hasn't been mopped since before Christmas, and the windows haven't been washed in over a year...