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A Woman's View
Judi Tabler color mug

My mother used to say that she spent half her time looking for things that she mislaid. I didn’t really understand that remark then, but now I do. How about you all? 

It’s bad enough to lose things around the house. At least we know that it will “turn up” sooner or later. Glasses, cellphone, money, address book, taco seasoning ... only some of the things I have misplaced this past week! I try to follow the rule, “a place for everything and everything in its place” but that only works if I am thinking! And most of the time, we are not anticipating that the places where we put them might be a problem later on.

Ethel told me her story. After having returned from a trip to see the “kids” in Oklahoma, she stuffed her dirty clothes from the trip in a large garbage bag and set it in the laundry room. Of course. That’s what any of us would do. Return from a trip, empty used clothing to wash later. Her husband, Leon saw the bag, thinking it was garbage, and threw it in the outside trash container for the garbage collection. By the time Ethel realized what happened to her bag of clothes, the collection truck had come and gone. Did she look for the clothing at the dump? Silly question I asked. No way. Bye-bye clothes.

Fred and I recently took a little road trip. In preparation, I always opt for a larger purse. We women stock our purses with our necessities. Masks. Lipstick. Hairbrush. Pain pills like ibuprofen. Car keys. Cash. Charge cards. Breath mints. Tissues. Charge cords.

About 20 miles down the road, I couldn’t find anything in that purse; the same problem I had at home. Déjà vu. My cellphone rang and where was it? After 6 rings, I could see the light in the bottom of my bag. Hello? A deep female voice with no emotion spoke. “Hello. This is to inform you that your Medicare, Social Security, hospitalization, passwords, Facebook, or whatever, has been tampered with ...” Click. Well, at least I found the phone.

That was not, however, the end of my woeful story. At the hotel, Fred handed me one of the plastic key cards. I stashed it neatly away in my purse, and that’s the last I saw of it the entire trip. Fred opened the room with his “key” and I acted like I had mine ... but I didn’t have a clue where it was in that darn purse.

By now, as you read this article, you are either not relating, or I am spot-on and you see yourself here. If it’s you, fess up and let’s discuss this further.

Once I was settled in the hotel room, the “search” continued. The plastic key thingy was only the beginning. Everything I owned was in two bags ... and there could be no excuse for losing anything, right? Wrong. Once in the room where I organized all my things, I felt secure knowing that such a small space would not cause any difficulties. 

But, where was that phone? Oops. It was still plugged in the car. I searched for a mask. I had four so finally found one. I slipped a mask on my face, and headed for the car. No phone. Back to the room. Grabbed my purse and dumped the entire mess on the bed. (drum roll, please). The phone fell out. It was in my purse, by golly.

You get the point. This is just the way life is. I do have a solution though. We need at least two of everything. And maybe carrying a notebook to write down where we put things might punish our psyche enough that we will begin to pay attention. You think?  

Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at or juditabler@awomansview.