The State of My Space
Being prone to losing items of all sizes, as I am, I sometimes wonder if I would suffice as a detective. I study the scene of the incident, usually a messy (but not dirty--therein lies the distinction) room with piles of books and pathways of lost socks, a few mugs, each stained with bottom-bound teabag (long dried), art materials estranged from one another from shelf to desk to floor, and, of course, glimmers of keys and fallen change. I begin with a cursory examination--overturning a pile of laundry, shaking out each shirt and listening for fallen debris. Often, however, this look-around is not enough. That is when I thrive as a detective. I drop from my chair my backpack (empty with crumpled paper and dying pens), six books, a t-shirt from last week (or was it the week before?), and maybe some exploratory sticky notes, escaped from some project-in-process, then sit, still perched on a sketchbook or two that I didn't bother to extricate. I list what I know about the culprit (myself) and the missing item. When was it last seen? Who has been in the room since? Did it fall into someone else's pocket? Stick to the bottom of a shoe (and fall off, anywhere)? Was it borrowed without permission? I am quick to blame outside forces, despite brain-locked 'statistics' that point to a long history of being guilty. I question any related parties, send a few text messages, and narrow down my search area.
In my long history of (auto)detective work, I have found that Occam's Razor is sharper than my memory. However, there have been some delightful cases. Today I was inspired by a search for an item that I finally realized was sticky. I discovered it stuck to the bottom of a notebook that I had overturned in initial searches. Dressers are often overlooked, but anything held in the process of getting dressed is susceptible to being forgotten there (like a glasses case that I must have left at a friend's house). It goes on. Ultimately, I like the redemption of honing my logic as ramification of my disorganization. At least, this seems to be the only development--after the missing item is located, the room returns to its original, mysterious, messy state.
I guess the connection of this to reading is that a good story can require many kinds of thinking--and also, I tend to find lost things serving as impromptu bookmarks.