I spent the last hour ransacking my apartment in search of a very important paper that I put in a very special place. That seems to be the root of the problem. You see, I take after my mother when it comes to these ‘special places’.

My mom is someone I love dearly, but she has this knack for putting items somewhere, and then never being able to find them again. These items range from Christmas presents to car keys, her purse, and many other miscellanies. Sometimes these items are found after a good round of searching and sometimes it takes months. I have received gifts meant for Christmas in July of the year after. A set of car keys was once found after the spring snow melt — presumably dropped the winter before. These things happen, and the “special places” have a certain notoriety in our household.

I seem to have inherited this from my mother. I have been known to misplace driver’s licenses that I had out moments before. I tend to put paperwork in random places only to discover it again months later, repeating this pattern week after week. This time though, I managed to create one doozy of a very special place … and it makes me want to alternately scream and shoot myself in the foot. You see, I lost a receipt that clearly lays out charges that my rental company needs to reimburse me for. I NEED this piece of paper more than I have ever needed a piece of paper in my life.

I located the initial receipt — the one I signed when the movers came to pick my stuff up, but I can’t for the life of me find the one they gave me when they finished unloading the stuff. The one with itemized charges and stars to show what exactly the rental company was covering. The thing is, I knew this piece of paper was uber important, and so I put it in a place worthy of its import. Do I remember where that place is? No, but thank god I can kinetically remember doing it. Funny how my muscles remember the motions, but my brain can’t remember the place.

I guess I will go dwell on the frustration as I try to fall asleep, and once I do hit slumberland, I am sure my sleep will be plagued with anxiety dreams of searching for the paper. I am sure these dreams will not shed any light on the situation as I have searched every feasible place I can think of. But it doesn’t hurt to hope, does it?