When we were young, we used to laugh at my mother for putting things in silly places. Like putting the milk in the cupboard or the cereal in the refrigerator. They just happened.
I am the queen of putting things down and forgetting about them. Like the time I lost the phone in the linen closet. Or the other time when I lost it in the garden. I can't tell you how many times I've lost my keys -- because I can't count that high, quite honestly.
Recently, the garage door opener has been lost. I won't say who lost it. But have I mentioned that my mother is visiting? It was lost for close to 48 hours. I wasn't worried. I knew it would be found somewhere. Last night, I was finishing the childrens' baths and went to get a pullup for the youngest out of the random closet behind the bathroom door (most awkward setup ever, by the way), there was the garage door opener, staring at me. I told the children to "quick, go get Grandma. Tell her mommy needs her!" They ran off and told her, she came in a panic to see my giggly face, pointing and laughing. At the garage door opener, I mean.
The part that befuddles me most is not how it got there, but how my husband missed it the night before. He knew we were looking for it, and he was on bath duty, and he had to have gotten out a pullup. His response?
"I just didn't see it - I wasn't expecting to see it in there!"