GONE. JUST PLAIN GONE.

I can't believe it. I've spent the last week looking for just one bag/box with some of my most important things and get this... IT'S GONE. Never again to ever reappear. I'm so heartsick about it, I can't tell you. Well, okay. I'm only heartsick about the precious lost notes I was saving for a lifetime, but I AM totally upset about the other lost items, just the same.

Case in point: my complete manicuring supplies and my beautiful gold toe nail clippers. Where in the world can they BE?? For sure, there are additional major items in that bag or box, but as of yet, my saddened brain hasn't remembered them. Thank God. But when I DO, you can bet your sweet ass, I'll be as upset then, as I am now. Again, WHERE IN THE HELL CAN THESE ITEMS BE???? Besides, I am one of THE most organized, dependable people you're ever going to meet. That I've lost these things, is just so upsetting. And, considering their value to me, so not my style.

I can't even believe it. And, to make matters worse, I can't blame anyone but myself. In fact, if I remember correctly, these items were SO important to me, that I entrusted their move only onto myself. Uh.. big mistake. The packing that I let all the others do, boom. It all arrived just fine. The packing I did mySELF, given the dear value, forget it... I completely lost them in a matter of minutes. It's driving me crazy, too. Like, just how many times can a person stroll through a house looking over and over, in every nook and cranny, knowing damn well, the items are just plain GONE. Kaput. Adios. So never coming back again.

Of course, mysterious missing items are nothing new to me. As you know, I'm forever handing out prizes to my housekeeper for finding that which I had a second ago, but bingo, have now fallen off the face of the earth. It's just that THIS mystery is tearing apart my sanity. And trust me... it wasn't all that much in tact, to begin with. All I can think is, that when the day these items DO once again reappear (which believe me, they won't) then I will be soooo ready to fly off the rooftop of my house singing God's glory from here all the way to Timbuktu. Geez... I've checked the new house. I've checked the old house. I've checked my car and I've checked my Dad's car. Absolutely no cigar.

Which is interesting. To get through this ordeal, I need to be smoking something WAY heavier than a cigar. And, in addition... I think I may need to throw in a couple of martinis or some such liquid. Who knows? Maybe I'll even have to toss in a couple of meds. All I know is... everything is going perfectly fine in life. Except for this one HUGE mystery. Already I can see, this is one puzzle even Agatha Christie herself will never will be able to solve. Not even with the help of Jessica Fletcher, Columbo AND Perry Mason. Damnit.