LOST

Ian loses things constantly. In the early days, he blamed me:

Ian: "Every time you use my comb, it gets lost."

Laura: "I always give the comb back to you, or I put it back where I found it."

Ian: "I'm sorry. I have this irrational quality. I blame other people when I lose things. You're smart for calling me out on it."

Now, he blames cleaning the house. For instance:

Ian: "I lost my iPod! Arrgh!"

Laura: "I'll help you look for it."

Ian: "I lost it because I cleaned the house! I never lose things when the house is dirty. Everything's in front of me. But then I clean, and it all disappears."

Laura: "That...doesn't sound right. I think you lost it because you put it down somewhere and forgot where you put it."

Ian: "Nonsense!"

 

In the past week alone, Ian lost his iPod, his phone charger, and multiple TV and DVD remotes. We tear the house apart, looking in every nook and cranny. I look in totally obscure places.

Laura: "I'm going to look in the mail box. And the wastepaper baskets. And the Guinea Pig cages."

Ian, certain he placed the item in a tidy box somewhere while cleaning, roots through dresser drawers and kitchen drawers and coat closets.

Laura: "Why would you put your iPod in the coat closet? You don't even put coats in the coat closet."

Ian: "Because I was cleaning. And every time I clean, I lose things. CLEANING RUINS MY LIFE."

After an hour of searching, I flop on the couch and watch Ian rip through the house, still furiously looking for the iPod.

Ian: "I'm sorry. I feel like I'm wasting our time. But I'm so frustrated."

Laura: "It'll show up. It's always in the last place you look."

Ian: "........."

Laura: "I bet watching the Simpsons would help you find your iPod. Especially the episode about Radioactive Man."

Ian: "I'm going to keep searching."

Laura: "I like that episode."

The search proves futile. Ian pounds through the house in exasperation, frazzled and frustrated.

Ian: "I bet I left it in my car when I got home and someone sneaked up my driveway and stole it from my car."

Laura: "That seems implausible. Your neighbors are pretty geriatric. They'd probably feel frightened by an iPod. My mom's scared of the internet and my dad's scared of texting. They're both terrified of Facebook."

Ian: "I bet I dropped it in a puddle in the yard and now its fried."

Laura: "Umm"

Ian: "I bet I lost it forever and I'll never find it and a little piece of my heart will fall out of my chest and die."

Laura: "Uhhh"

Ian: "I bet aliens took it. At this point, it's the only logical explanation."

Suddenly, Ian leaves the room. He returns holding his iPod.

Laura: "Where did you find it?"

Ian: "The cat room. I went in there earlier. I forgot I left it there."