I finished all of my unpacking and put everything away or in the hamper on Sunday night.
Somehow, in that process, I lost my smartcard. It's not a disaster to lose a smartcard. I've done it before.
What I'm concerned about is why I lost the card.
When I was in grade school, I would lose my keys. Once I lost my keys when I was in the fifth grade. Dad got very angry and I cried. After that he bought me an enormous keychain made out of clear plastic in the shape of a turtle. It barely fit in one of my back pockets. I didn't lose my keys for many years after that. I hated the keychain.
The next time I remember losing my keys was my first year in grad school. I was using a man's-style old fashioned key holder--the kind with removable fobs in a leather case. It had mild sentimental value and it was small, which I liked. I remember running across campus trying to retrace my steps looking for it. Then I accepted that it was gone. I felt calm. My landlady gave me a new key, I had spare car keys and the key to the office was easily replaced.
I haven't lost my keys since.
But I have lost my smartcard. The first time was when I moved to my current place. No one had used it when I noticed it was missing a few days later. It got lost in the shuffle. I replaced it.
The second time, it wasn't lost. It was stolen. It was in a backpack that was lifted from the trunk of a car I was using. Gone. I bought a new one.
And now, a third time. It must be somewhere in my house; but where? I was a half an hour late to work because I was hunting around the apartment looking for it.
Why do I think things like this mean something? I used to lose my keys when I was worried about something. What do I have to be worried about? I have no hard decisions to make. I have no tragic romances. Work is steady. I have plenty of friends around. So why do I feel like I would like to go far away and not do anything for a week? I go out of town for the weekend and I need a sick day to recover (admittedly, it was the opposite of a relaxing weekend). I can't file my papers, do the vacuuming or keep the house in much order at all. It's not total disaster. I'm still washing the dishes, taking out the trash and doing the laundry. But I feel like I'm moving through molasses. Maybe it's the weather. I feel ready to do something--to move, run, dance, exercise--but when it comes to it, I'm happy under a blanket, watching t.v. and monitoring the internet.
I'm the laziest restless person ever. And I'd sure like to know where that smartcard went.
UPDATE: I found the smartcard right before I went to bed. I don't know how it ended up on the dining room table, but there it was smiling up at me, presumably after dislodging itself from the underside of some papers or the computer or my bag.
Here's the thing: I WAS worried about something and as soon as that worry was resolved (thank you a million times over for being so understanding, you-know-who), the smartcard reappeared. It reminds of me of a little thing my mother calls, "the power of inanimate objects." It can be telling. (And no, I don't believe the smartcard lost itself, but they call it "smart" for a reason, don't they?)
Grateful for: not much to worry about.