Getting old is a bitch! This morning, while sitting at the iMac, I glanced up the adjoining wall and noticed a smudge. I used my thumb to remove it and wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. Hmmm.
Wait! Wait! There used to be a piece of artwork hanging there! Omigosh, when did it go away?
It was my own work - an acrylic painting of the Four Fates. It had been hanging there for a loooong time. But it's wasn't there. Where did it go? WHEN did it go?
I wracked my brain and had no memory of taking it down myself. I loved that thing. Why would I have removed it? I went through some older digital pics and saw it wasn't hanging when we swapped out the laptop for the iMac. So it's been gone at least a month. And I only noticed it today??
I don't know what upset me more: that it was gone? or that I only noticed it was gone today? The brain is a frustrating organ.
Yet, for some reason, I didn't feel as upset as I thought I should have been... Was my brain trying to tell me something? Well, if it knew where it was - why wouldn't it just tell me! But it didn't. I tore the whole 1st floor apart. No luck. I tore apart the 2nd floor office. No luck. Did someone take it?
I've lost keys before. Scissors. Gloves, socks, shopping lists. Normal stuff. Unfortunately I don't often take pics of the interior of the house. I'm a garden gal. So I couldn't easily find any more shots of the writing nook when the painting WAS there.
I had a cup of tea and a little breakfast. Frustrated, I returned upstairs. I started in the storage eave this time. Nothing obvious. I left. Came back later - and decided to look in the flat box where I transported artwork from the old house.
And there it was. I have, even as I type this, NO MEMORY of taking that painting off the wall and storing it back up in the attic. None. Nada. Zip.
When did I do it? Why did I do it? Obviously my brain knew where it was. It wouldn't tell me. All it did was kept me abnormally calm about it not being up on the wall this morning. Sheesh.
Is there a neurologist in the house? Psychotherapist? Heck, I'd settle for a hypnotist at this point. Usually, when I find something I've moved and forgotten, the memory of "Oh, yeah. I remember that!" pops up and all is well. Not this time.
After all the hubbub, I've decided to leave the painting in the box in the attic. After all, I must have had a damn good reason to put it back there after years on the wall, right? Right? Otherwise, the alternative is just too scary. And I'm not ready to deal with that!
How about you? How does your memory play tricks with YOU? When was the last time you felt you needed to sit down and take some time to count your marbles? *sigh*
In other news, Christmas was nice and drama-free. Mom spent Christmas eve here and we had a lovely brunch and then a late lunch on Christmas Day. Hope yours was just as fulfilling as ours was.
Looking forward to the New Year and wishing you all health and happiness in 2015.