Sandoval Signpost

An Independent Monthly Newspaper Serving the Community since 1988

  My Wife and Times

Daniel Will Harris

The Sandoval Signpost (Web edition) is pleased as punch (diet punch that is) to bring you the humor and insightful human observations of Daniel Will Harris, author of My Wife and Times. —Ed].

 

The Land Of Lost Things

—Daniel Will Harris

I've lost my glasses. So if I've made spelling errors here you'll understand. Text on-screen looks kind of like I'm viewing it through the same misty lens that shoots Liz Taylor perfume commercials.

I've looked everywhere. Well, clearly not everywhere or I would have found them, because they must be here somewhere. I haven't looked under the bed... wait, I'll go look.... Nope. Lots of interesting things (thankfully none of them alive) but no glasses.

I do have some glasses on. They're so old and big that I look like Elton John unplugged—a scary thought. The frames are clear plastic with a kind of pink tint and the lenses are so big they cover my face from forehead to upper lip. Thankfully, the prescription isn't as strong as what I need now, so I can't see exactly how stupid I look. What was I thinking when I bought them? I must have thought they looked good. I guess other people didn't notice because they'd been overcome by polyester.

I can't find my real spare pair, which have the right prescription. I can only find this old pair I no longer want and keep meaning to donate to people who don't mind looking like they're ready to boogie. Oh—if my real spare is missing, maybe I can find my regular ones.

See, I have a theory about lost things. I believe there's some kind of "Dimension L" (for lost) where things go for a little vacation from dust and us. At least one thing we own always has to be in this special dimension at any given time. Luckily, this doesn't seem to be the case with files on my hard disk (wait, I'm knocking on wood, I don't want to tempt fate).

So while looking for my glasses, I've found many things I lost and looked for without success in the past and no longer need. I don't know why I can find things I don't want—but not those I do. Why don't I throw most of this stuff out? I have a dream of putting a dumpster in front of the house and throwing things directly out of my window, like in a wild French movie called "Betty Blue." Wait—I thought my Chap Stick had gone to the nether regions of time and space so I bought another, now here it is, looking quite relaxed and fresh, and maybe even a little tan.

I can find these things that were previously lost, because my glasses have, apparently, taken their place in the "Land of Lost Things." I hope they're happy there. I also hope I lose something else soon, perhaps my car keys (they always seem to enjoy a good rest) so that I can find the glasses again.

OK, the trick is to look for something else. I know—I'm going to look for a notebook filled with notes I make in the middle of the night using the pen I bought that lights up with an alien green light. Naturally the notebook should be right by the bed but no. That's good!

Maybe I was trying to decipher the contents which, in the morning light, tend to look like some dead language. Ah, here it is, too bad. I was hoping it would be gone, so that it could take the place of my glasses which would mysteriously reappear on my desk where I know I left them. But wait—the pen is gone. That's a good sign. Now maybe there's a chance to find the glasses.

I know—I'll find them the last place I look. Isn't that an idiotic saying—of course I will, because once I find them, I can stop looking!

Maybe I left them somewhere near the shower. I don't wear my glasses in the shower because there's nothing there I need to see clearly, in fact, it's better if I don't see anything in there clearly.

Nope. OK, now I've sacrificed my alien pen and still no glasses. I'm just going to give up—that'll be very Zen of me. Once I stop wanting something so badly I can find it. I think while I'm at it I'll stop wanting to win 60 million dollars in the lottery.

And there they are. Under a stack of mail I'm now throwing out. I looked through that stack three times, and, well, it doesn't matter, there they are. Now if I could only lose something else so I could find my spare pair. No, I'd better not press my luck.

At least I know where everything is on my hard disk (and when I don't, a simple Start/Find can locate it for me). And I back up every day so I don't lose anything (you should be backing up, too, before you have to learn the hard way).

While losing something in the real world is annoying, on your computer it can be devastating and mean weeks or months of lost work. Most people only seem to learn this hard way, by losing something vital. Don't be one of them (see info below about backing up). Now, If only I'd backed up a spare pair of glasses...

I wonder if, when you lose your mind, you find everything else. That's just a thought—I'm not willing to try it  just yet.

 

My Wife and Times Cover
If you would like to read more fabulous stories, you need Daniel Will Harris’s My Wife and Times. The 148 page book contains stories that are conveniently short, perfect for bedtime reading, or between airport friskings. Price: $15 postpaid and is available for purchase online at www.SchmoozeLetter.com/book or on Amazon.com.

   

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