Losing things

Most of the time I have a rather casual way of storing things, to put it mildly.  Usually anything that needs to be kept from one year to the next stays around in the wrong place for months at a time and then often in a fit of frantic tidying I put the items away anywhere just to get them out of sight. This can lead to a last minute panic in trying to find something right before it's needed.

Today was a case in point.  We are attending the first Passover Seder at Ralph's aunt Geri's house.  Nice. Quite looking forward to someone else making the dinner and hosting the annual family gossip fest.  We were asked to contribute very little.  I offered to cook and help out but in the end was asked to bring the Seder plate on which all the traditional Passover symbolic items are held,the hagaddahs (the books that tell the story of Passover) and the desert. Great,virtually nothing to do. I made a cheesecake (any excuse) and a mixture of seasonal berries - desert done.  This morning Ralph found the books we needed, exactly where he remembered them to be, but the plate, where was the plate?  I literally ran from room to room, upending boxes, clearing surfaces of discarded clothing, looking under beds, in cupboards,in drawers, at the back of shelves, but the plate was nowhere to be found.

At this point I need to say that I have recently observed a new and unpleasant neurosis emerging in me when I lose something. I don't just feel puzzled as to where I put things, I get increasingly hysterical and run around shouting and, as my mother-in-law might have said, 'creating'.  This has not always been the case.  I used to take things more in my stride and was able to relax and stop the frantic looking for a while, certain in the knowledge that most things turn up.  Usually they are in the very last place you look. I know that makes no sense because that's so obvious, but it always feels like Sod's Law (in the US it's Murphy's Law).

With a rising level of hysteria I made my poor, long-suffering husband ascend into the loft to check if the plate had been stored in a box there.  As soon as the ladder was out and he was up in the loft, searching around, I knew with complete certainty where the plate was.  It was in the downstairs cupboard under the stairs.  I opened the cupboard and just as I thought, there it was.  Crisis averted, panic over. Breathe normally again.

My life is disorganised.  It always has been.  I have little ability and probably less desire to organise and systematise things and I have to admit that this is causing more problems than it ever used to.  In the past I could always rely on my memory.  I could remember dozens of phone numbers, credit card numbers, where I'd put my bus pass, passport, and pretty much everything I needed.  In the days before Filofaxes and iPods and computers I never seemed to need to write down dental appointments or dinner arrangements.  Now I seem to need to record information in more than one place to make sure I remember to to check what I need to do. I no longer carry so many telephone numbers in my head and this is certainly made worse by speed dial on my phone. I console myself by realising that there is no need to carry this trivia in my head, I can use modern technology to help me, but I also must admit that I don't remember things as easily as I once did.  Is this me aging, or me being too preoccupied with the minutiae of life to be able to carry all this unnecessary rubbish?

Most of the time my chaotic lifestyle works but when it doesn't, as it didn't today, I get pretty crazed.  It's in those moments that I resolve to throw EVERYTHING away and clear my life of clutter.  The moment I find what I've lost, I forget about any resolve to do anything and once again carry on in my haphazard style.  I adopt the same attitude to my seasonal allergies.  When they're gone, they're gone and I don't take any action until I sneeze again.  Maybe this time by writing down a reporting of the state I got into looking for the plate I'll be able to look back in a calm moment and take some action.

Tonight I'm tired.  My dad is still not well in the States.  It's Passover and my immediate family is far away.  The state of my disorganised life is secondary to the feelings I have of helplessness and frustration.  I want to be able to make my dad better, to have my kids sitting next to me at the Seder table and to feel at ease with life.  And yet, I know it's also all going to work out.  It is what it is. There is nothing to be done.

Finally,for all  celebrating Passover, I wish us all a Happy Holiday and a reminder to remember how fortunate we are to live free, peaceful, contented lives amongst those whom we love. Live long and prosper.