Mouse: MIA, Gone Missing,

This is a photo of the tiny mouse that I bought to use on my 11 inch Chromebook, in July of 2021 and this is the cute box the mouse lives in on the table next to where I am sitting typing.

Just like 7 knives that did their Houdini  move into the spoon section of the drawer, my tiny mouse "went missing", MIA, GONE BABY GONE, Nowhere to be found.

For two days.

Imagine my surprise when I reached into the plate that belongs to Beau, the one that holds his treats, Meds,  Ear Drops etc , the one that sits on the kitchen counter by the sink, and phone and laptop in a place I am in very often, and 

I Suddenly Saw The Mouse.

(the sentence was so long, I forgot why I reached into the plate)

Here's What Happens. I carry what ever is in my hand with me when I move, and I sit it down. Evidence shows I move on and leave it, because if its my coffee cup and I go to take another sip, I CAN'T find it. Once I searched the entire house and could not find it. Until I sat down on the sofa and spied with my little eye, my cup sitting by the TV, in plain sight, on top of the external speaker. 

This might be why, when I reach for a pen, to jot something down so I remember it, I find there is no pen, but when I walk in the kitchen there are SIX pens by the pad.

 I am like a MadSquirrel, toting acorns here and there and leaving them.

The carry things around happens when my focus is broken, but I wrote this  poem November 2021 that proves I was crazy then, and I have said before, it all started March 28th of 2020 when COVID shut the world down.. 

This might also prove that I am an easily stressed person and that what causes it is I LOVE ROUTINE and can't function without it. Interrupting the Routine, Interrupts My Brain Thoughts.

I fell down the AI deep dive hole when I asked if there is a name for this.

I will stop Now, except for the poem from 4 years ago. 

Its OK to say you wish I would forget how to make a short story long. Bob says it a lot. 

👍👍 up for Routine!

 Routine is my middle name,

which means habits are my only game.

Wake Up and potty, then make the bed.

I don' have to think, this is in my head.

Brush my teeth, brush my hair.

Back to the bed, exercising by lifting legs into the air.

Stretches' next, then kick my legs,

Head to the kitchen to cook my eggs,

Each day has its on thing to be done,

I check them off, one by one.

Saturday 6 am is shopping

Sunday is reserved for vac and mopping.

Showers are usually in late afternoon,

Reading and commenting are done before noon.

If you have known me for awhile,

you can now say OCD and smile.

I have daily exercise, set up for each day,

the time, the exercise, different everyday.

Last Sunday, before I got up, my mind still whirling in a Beaumont Daze,

I suddenly realized I had done zero exercise for 8 whole days.

Nothing, Nada, not one at all,

my mind focused on the fact beau can not play ball.

I got out of bed,

Showered and washed the hair on my head.

Bob said aren't we doing the floor?

Oh NO, I forgot, this I have never forgotten before.

I thought once more, about the missed exercise,

I went to lay on the bed and to my surprise,

I had forgotten to make up the bed.

I made up the bed, lay down and was blinded by the ceiling light over my head

It seems I forgot to turn it off, before I lay down,

Even though blinded, the evidence was clear, causing my face to frown.

the fan and 4 lights was draped in cobwebs, it seems I forgot to swipe them down. 

Written by Sandra November, 2021