Things I Lost, Part 557

So, I lost my sunglasses.

And yes, I know what you’re thinking. Other than, “Holy hell, is this woman going to lose EVERY. SINGLE. THING she owns?” I mean. (The answer to that, by the way, is surely “yes”. Yes, it would appear that I am. ) “So what?” you’re thinking. “It’s just a pair of sunglasses! It’s not like losing a dress, say. And it’s February, it’s not even sunny for God’s sake!”

You’re right, of course. It is just a pair of sunglasses, but the thing is: these were SPECIAL sunglasses. (Have you noticed how I always lose the spechul stuff, never the totally ordinary, take-it-or-leave-it stuff? Yeah, me too.) I got them on my honeymoon, as a “reward” for agreeing to almost kill myself on a quad bike, so they had sentimental value, and I LOVED them.

Also: I’ve been surgically attached to those sunglasses ever since I got them. I know I’ve probably mentioned this before once or twice or fourteen times, but my eyes are super-sensitive to sunlight, so I always, always have a pair of sunglasses with me. Or maybe three pairs:

The passenger seat of my car, last year

(Oh God. The pair at the very front? Is THE pair. The LOST pair. It makes me sad just to look at them. Where are you now, oh sunglasses? Where did you sleep last night? Is some other girl loving you the way I loved you? Or are you perhaps sleeping in a cardboard box somewhere, probably under a bridge near a railway station?)

You see, for years now (since I was a teenager, in fact) I’ve had this paranoia that I’ll be out somewhere and it’ll all of a sudden turn SUNNY, and I’ll be dazzled by it and, I don’t know, go blind or something. (On a more practical note, if it’s sunny AT ALL, I can’t drive without my sunglasses, and I also whine a lot. That last bit has nothing to do with the sunglasses, by the way, I just whine a lot.) So I carry my sunglasses everywhere, and because I wear them so much I am generally prepared to pay a bit more for a pair I really, really like. That’s what I did with these ones, and for the past three years, they have been my constant companions. They have been to America with me. They have been to Spain with me. They have been to… well, they’ve been to America and Spain, OK? They appear in almost every single one of my holiday snaps from the past three years, and I had optimistically thought that we would have many more happy years ahead of us, my big-ass sunnies and me.

And then yesterday I lost them. Because that’s what I do.

Actually, that’s not quite true. Well, the “losing stuff” bit IS true, but not the “yesterday” bit. Yesterday I found out that I’d lost them. I actually have no idea when I lost them, and this is because the horrible weather we’ve been having lately means that I can’t even remember when I last had to wear them. Unfortunately for me, the whole “carrying them with me at all times” thing means I could have lost them ANYWHERE. The handbag I use has two zips which both have to be closed to make it secure, and because I’m lazy, I normally don’t bother, which means it would’ve been all too easy for them to have fallen out somewhere. Especially when you consider that it’s ME carrying the bag.

So, yesterday was one of THOSE days, and by that I mean, “One of those days which Terry and I spend turning the house upside down as we hunt YET AGAIN for something I have lost.” We searched the house. We searched both cars. We searched in the rubbish bins. We called my parents and asked if I had, YET AGAIN left something at their house the last time I was there. We called Terry’s mum and asked if I had, YET AGAIN, left something at her house the last time I was there. Terry called the mall I went to last weekend and asked if anything had been handed in.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Obviously, as the photo above shows, it’s not like I don’t have other, (albeit non-spechul) pairs I can wear for now, but seriously: how do I learn to stop losing stuff all the time? Is there some kind of a course you can take for that? Should I start tying all of my belongings to me with string (if I can find the string, that is), or should I just admit defeat and never leave the house ever again? I’m starting to think that might be the best idea