It was a busy day. Errands for the back-to-college Reedy Girl (with driving lessons). Shopping for the impossible-to-find perfect purse. Pharmacy, Tarzhay, new eyeglass selections (you’ll have to wait!), and a quick grocery trip to get dinner ingredients.
I helped with some sous chef tasks, cleaned a litter box, and then took out trash and recycling since tomorrow is collection day. And then… I couldn’t find my phone.
Nope. Not. Anywhere. No flat surface in the kitchen. Not on the couch. Under the couch… Nada. We dialed it a gazillion times and listened… And heard nothing.
Horrors. Is it in the trash? (You know where this is going, don’t you?)
Yes. It was a trash-picking party at Chez Vaughns. Thank heavens for surgical gloves! Reedy Girl helped us look. Bag after bag of stinky, funky trash. Then we took apart the car and looked in every crevice and cranny. We even took the trashcans for a walk down the street to see if “Find My iPhone” was helpful and showed the phone really WAS in a trash bag. (News flash: unlike what you see with McGee and Gibbs on NCIS, it’s NOT that accurate!)
Hot, sweaty, and tired, we regrouped back inside. One more search.
And yes. I found it. In the pocket of the apron I was wearing during dinner prep. I had neatly hung up my apron in the pantry on a hook after dinner.
Bless my family for their help. (It was an amusing trip down memory lane, when we trash picked a hotel garbage bin for a retainer… And found it.)
Is there a moral to this story? Oh… Only this. Those who really love you will not judge but help you. And find ways to offer help and support (and laughs) as you go through the stinkiest things life can throw at you.
And now… Goodnight.