We're packing and hauling and moving this week, and there is so much getting lost in the shuffle. Like cats. And epically-important diaper bags. Car keys. And iced coffees that I just put down for a second but then disappear into the cardboard ether.
Yesterday, I had to run a errand on the fly, so I showered off the grime, dressed quickly, and left. (Thankfully, BSparl was in the care of her aunt for the day, so Chris and I could focus on packing.) I was gone about two hours, but it wasn't until I got back close to the house that I realized something was missing.
I had taken it off before showering and totally spaced on putting it back on.
Realizing my mistake, I felt that warm rush of panic spread over me as I foraged in my purse for my meter.
Which was also missing. Left right on the bathroom counter, next to it's pumpy pal.
I pulled into a parking space and called Chris to have him help me bring up the boxes.
"What's missing from my outfit?" I asked him, disgusted with myself. (And also not realizing that a question about a woman's outfit - especially a woman who is dealing with post-pregnancy body image issues - is so loaded that if I were Chris, I would have turned and run.)
"From your outfit? I don't know ..." He scanned me. I gestured towards my hip.
"Oh no, your pump?"
"Yup. On the bathroom counter. Since my shower. Awesome."
"Are you high now?"
"Didn't test. My meter? Also on the damn counter."
And now I have to check all the boxes we've packed to see what one I mistakenly stuck my mind in.