The Lost Things

Every few weeks I have to clear off my desk, not because anything really important happens here, but because I can't find the checkbook. I hate not being able to find the checkbook. It's not as bad as not being able to find the keys, because if I rush out of the house without the checkbook it's not like I won't be able to get back in. But as soon as I realize the checkbook is gone, I remember the yards of checks I had to write yesterday. This makes me tense. Very tense. I imagine it's like how I used to feel in college when I thought I might not make a deadline for a paper, but that was so long ago, I can't be sure. In any case, none of this, unfortunately, will help me find my checkbook. If only hand-wringing and problem-solving were the same, things would be so much easier for me.