Yesterday I opened a new package of paper plates; you know those decent plates that you don’t need to use three of so they don’t fold in half. I used one to warm something over
in the microwave. Hold this thought.
Two days previously I looked all over hell’s creation trying to find my dust broom. Looked in every cabinet, crease, under every rug and rampart, nothing. This was frustrating because just the day before that I lost a brand new spray bottle of Resolve stain remover.
Now to understand this all a mite better, the RV is approximately 400 square feet inside.
Big enough so I don’t crash into myself, but not the size of a small house unless your wife has moved you and your belongings out to the shed.
When I tell you I looked everywhere for these two things, I do mean everywhere. I looked in places they would never be like the drawer with forks and knives in it, inside of the
refrigerator, under the RV in the storage bins, beneath the bed blankets. Nope, they could not be found anywhere.
Early this morning the bottle of Resolve appeared out of nowhere. Where did it appear, well exactly where it belonged of course, which was the first place I had looked for
it. Well amazement aside I was very happy, not only did I have my Resolve back, I didn’t have to go purchase a new bottle. The problem was I did not understand the implications of getting my Resolve back.
Later in the morning as I was sitting on the couch reading a book and sipping my coffee I looked across the RV near the door. The door where I always kept the dust broom. The missing dust broom. It was right where it should be. I got up, lifted it up, touched it, and used it a little, just to make sure I was not imagining things. Real as a dust broom can be. I carefully placed it back in its place, still unaware of the dire implications.
Lunchtime. Oh good, I’m hungry. Think I’ll nuke up some frozen burritos I made. Toss them on a paper plate and they will be ready in 6 minutes. Yummy. This is when I learned the implications of getting my Resolve and dust broom back.
The new package of paper plates was missing. No, not missing in misplaced, missing as in no longer of this world. I tore the entire RV apart, got down on my hands and knees, looked behind couch, under tables, on the driver’s seat, name a place I looked there.
I have come to accept that to get something back you will lose something else. I am now fearful of getting the paper plates back while I am driving.