Where Is It? And Who Am I?

Owing to my latent obsessive compulsive disorder (which, I have to say, seems to be in remission these days), I never lose anything. Yes, I am neat and organized. But because I constantly check for, say, my keys, phone, and wallet before I leave any place I visit, I cannot relate to all those people who have misplaced any of these vital things.

Having said all this, I have recently lost something. Yesterday, I brought last Sunday’s Washington Post Style section with me to school, in case I had any down time during which I could read. I remember shoving it in my folder, and I vaguely remember later taking it out once I returned home, before putting the folder away. What I don’t know is where the newspaper is now. It’s not on my desk, in the car, or in my locker at work (which is where I first realized it was missing, because I could have sworn that I brought it with me to peruse during my break). This is no big whoop—at least I know exactly where my keys, phone, and wallet are—but in some ways, its disappearance is earth-shattering. I just might have an identity crisis.

By the way, we still haven’t found Samson’s missing bone. Dad and I just cannot accept the most likely conclusion, that the pooch ate the whole thing.