Losing It

You know the scene in “The Hobbit,” when Gollum, realizing that he has lost the Ring, doubles over, keening and howling?

His reaction pales compared to what I do when I lose … well, anything … my keys, the top to the bottle of olive oil, my to-do list.

Oy, I become unglued when I lose my to-do list.

Because I hate to lose things so much, I check my pockets for wallet, phone and keys every few minutes when I’m out. I am always aware of our possessions. Where are they? Are they secure? Did someone take them out? If so, did they put them back? I feel like a border collie.

As a result, though, I rarely lose anything.

My husband and son lose things all the time. My husband left his wallet in a restaurant twice in the last week alone. This does not upset him, except for the prospect of telling me, because I will go nuts (see above).

When my son, who is very much like his dad, was in the fifth grade, his teacher told me about how my son looked for his homework in his binder, didn’t see it and said, with a casual shrug, “Oh, well, it’ll turn up.”

She said very gravely that we were going to have to work on that.

I’m not so sure.

Yes, my husband and son misplace things. But they almost always turn up again, usually quickly. If not, they are easily replaced. Meanwhile, they are not devoting precious bandwidth to worry.

And I would love to know how that feels.