A Secret Place

Sometimes I wonder at myself. I safely put away things in places thinking I will easily remember where they were reposing. Hard luck! I can’t find the **** things. Alas! The place was only known to me. Nobody else can help me.

Nola (daughter) along with family, stayed for a few days at our latest abode in the land of Texas. She came bearing gifts for Son, and I. Fearing the exuberance of her two youngest I took my glass plate away to the safety of my closet. It got ensconced there, but the wooden stand was another matter. I forgot about its’ whereabouts. Giving up I looked into the lowest drawer of my dressing table, and found another one for the plate. It was a smaller size, and my apprehension that it wouldn’t support the plate came true.

At the same time while I was looking for the misplaced stand I was also trying to find my brushes, and paints. Didn’t find them either. And then my eyes landed on the elusive stand. It was lying on top of some photo frames. Glad to find the missing absconder, I stationed the plate on it.

My sister, who tries to find solutions to my forgetfulness told me to write down in a notebook whenever I stash my things for safety purposes. Good! Now where in God’s name I put away my notebook?

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