Earlier this morning I spent a half hour ranting and raving about the "disappearance" of one of my new shirts. I woke up Bailey and rooted through her room and closet, assuming she tried it on and then threw it on the floor or stuffed it in a drawer (which occasionally happens). I silently accused Alan of taking it to the cleaners by mistake with his clothes (thankfully he wasn't here or I would have questioned him). I considered maybe the dog took it, or that someone snuck in the garage and stole some clothes, or that it fell behind the washer and dryer. I mean, how do you lose a shirt? A sock, yes. A shirt, no.
I looked EVERYWHERE. Three times. During this time I had been doing laundry and had carefully checked the load of clothes that I put in the washer. Still nothing. I looked some more, and all the while I am absolutely fuming. You see, this has happened before - sometime last year right after buying some new clothes for school, I lost a shirt. I liked that shirt so much that I went back to the store and bought another one. And here I was again, the shirt I liked the most was missing.
So as I'm considering getting dressed and going to Target to buy the shirt again (I really liked this shirt - Bailey said it made my boobs look big!), I notice the washer has stopped and decide to check that load again. I take the load out piece by piece to place in the dryer, and there it is - in the washer. How I missed it the three previous times I looked through the clothes, is a mystery. Or is it? Sometimes you just gotta wonder if someone's trying to tell you something.
Something like, "CALM THE HELL DOWN!"