Things were going missing in our house, important things like Blue Tooth ear pieces (both of them), sunglasses, remote controls, money. What was going on? It was frustrating. We blamed everything and everyone: our poor organizational skills, our two-year-old son, the dog. We looked everywhere: under cushions, inside pockets, behind couches. We offered bribes to whichever child could find them first—all to no avail. What had become of our things? Would it forever remain a mystery, like the case of the one missing sock or the city of Atlantis? When I was ready to give up all hope, just as I had in the previously mentioned mysteries, the case was solved.
It was a normal summer day in Clovis, hot beyond comprehension. I was in the car. The sun was blinding as it radiated off of everything around me, the dashboard, the windshield, the neighboring car’s side mirror. I squinted, in need of relief. I reached over to the passenger seat where my oversized purse rested. I had never been a “big purse” girl before. But I was visiting New York, it was red, a gold emblem that said Dolce & Gabbana adorned the front, I thought I was cool. I forked over the thirty dollars to the street vendor and began totting around my larger than necessary purse. Now, inside my car, in the bright sun, I just needed my sunglasses that resided somewhere inside the ginormous sea.
I blindly felt through the contents as I continued to watch the road. Eventually my hand felt my glasses, but they were trapped behind a thin layer of material. I couldn’t free them. When I finally arrived home, eyes watering from lack of proper protection from the unrelenting sun, I pulled my purse onto my lap. Once again I found my sunglasses, but now I could see that they were behind the lining of my purse, stuck. I was confused. How did they get in there? I searched in vain for a way in.
Eventually, I unzipped the little side pocket and found the hole that had been eating my stuff. I pulled things through it one by one, my sunglasses, a box of tic tacs, the ear pieces (both of them), money, pens (ten pens to be exact), the only thing I didn’t find was the T.V. remote, oh, and the city of Atlantis (it wouldn’t have surprised me if I had).
I was ecstatic. The mystery was solved. No longer could I blame my sub par organization, no longer would our two year old son get the suspicious looks, and no more would the poor, innocent dog be thought ill of. I had found my lost city of junk inside the vast depths of my sea.
Have I since gotten rid of my purse that is bigger than the ocean? Did I mention it says Dolce & Gabbana on the front? I still tote around my fake designer, but now when my husband asks, “Hey, honey have you seen my missing sock?” I say, “Have you checked my purse?”
Have you solved any mysteries in your life or in your writing lately?