The other day, I was leaving to go shopping, so I was already in a bad mood. I got dressed, got my coat on (and, um, I really need a real winter coat, I decided after yesterday’s walk downtown), put on the scarf and hat, had my car keys in my hand, and I was walking out the door. Then I realized I wasn’t wearing my glasses, so I started looking for them. I looked in the normal spots — my TV tray on which my laptop sits, the loveseat, the cabinet next to my end of the loveseat, master bathroom counters, on my night stand, top drawer in the kitchen, on the counter above the top drawer in the kitchen, on top of the office furniture (aka Old Yeller), and just in case my head had been ensconced in my butt, I checked the coat closet. They were nowhere.
So I enlisted Frank’s help. He started looking in all the placed I’d already looked, because he’s used to me saying, “Where are my glasses?” so he knows where they usually turn up. While he was upstairs checking the bathroom and the nightstand, I happened to find them. They were hanging from the collar of my shirt. I called upstairs. “I found them!” Frank said, “You did? Where were they?” Surely he wants to know for future reference. “Come see.” He came downstairs and looked in the direction I was looking first, and then he looked back at me and started laughing when he saw them hanging from my shirt. “Well, I didn’t know I needed to look *on* you!”
I’m pretty sure this makes me an official dufus.