I have been trying to find my passport because–well, reasons. I had a dim memory of it being in my underwear drawer and thoroughly dug through it. It was not there. Then, I thought, maybe I put it in a different drawer? I checked all of them. Not there. Hm. Maybe my desk? I had a hazy memory of putting it in my desk drawer, ‘hidden’ in something. Nope. Not there, either. I checked all the drawers several times.
I thought about it for the next few days, and then it hit me. It was probably downstairs in the safe! I went downstairs, but the safe was not where it usually was. I was so puzzled until I remembered that my brother and I had put it in one of the many boxes on the floor (mostly filled with books). I opened all the boxes, rummaging through them. I could not find the safe. I went through all of them again, and I still could not find the safe.
I called my brother to ask him if he remembered putting the safe into one of the boxes. He said yes. He said we did not bury it in anything, either. I went back down to look yet again, but I could not find it.
I was so frustrated and mad as hell. Mostly at myself! I know that my memory is shit since my medical crisis. I’m not mad at losing my memory because it’s a trade-off I’m willing to make for regaining my life. Easy choice, right?
I compensate by writing shit down if I need to do something or be somewhere at some point in time. However, I have not trained my brain yet that I also need to write down shit like this. Though, to be fair to me, I hid my passport before the medical crisis.
I did know that I had a valid passport in 2018 when I went to Malta. I vaguely remembered that it was new, but I wasn’t sure about that. I hadn’t used it for several years before that, and it’s not something I have to think about in my day-to-day.
I was frustrated, but I didn’t think anything would be helped by me going through the boxes for a fourth time.
My brother was in the neighborhood tonight (kind of ), so he stopped by. I haven’t seen him in a hot sec because he’s been busy, busy, busy–which is his standard MO. We got to talking aabout my passport and my frustrations with not being able to find it. My brother being who he is said immediately, “Want to go look for it?”
I didn’t really, but I knew that it was the best way to find it. I need external motivation and push sometimes. And my brother is indefatigable and really chill (most of the time). We looked through all the boxes, chatting as we went. I said to make sure to look under the top layer. He looked at me strangely and said that there was no need for that because it would be on top.
We looked through all the boxes and did not find the safe. I was so frustrated and said, “Well, we might as well give up.”
My brother decided to look elsewhere, near where we had it in the first place, and he found it. I went upstairs to get the key. It wasn’t where it should have been, but I brought down a few keys, anyway, that might be the right one. My brother informed me that the safe was open so we would not need the key.
The safe was not the one I had pictured in my mind. It was bigger in every dimension, and it suddenly made sense why my brother was saying that it wouldn’t fit in some of the smaller boxes. It’s roughly three times the size of the other safe, and I have no idea why I thought we put the (other) safe in a box. My brother said that he was sure we had done it, too. Why we would put the small one in a box but not the bigger one, I have no idea. It did not seem like any of the stuff in the big safe was missing.
My passport was in it, and it’s good until 2028. Which means I did renew it right before going to Malta–just as I thought. It was oddly comforting that I had been right about that at least. And that I was right about where my passport was–even if I was wrong about where the safe was.
I put my passport somewhere else. In a safe place (not in a safe, ha!). I’m a bit leery about it because that’s what I thought I had done the last time, and then I couldn’t find it for the longest time. That’s what happens when I put anything in a safe place–I forget where that is.
It’s a huge burden off my shoulders, and I didn’t even know it was still settled there. I envy my brother for just doing the shit that needs to get done. In our family, he got the drive and the perseverance. I got the uh, other things? I do get shit done, but not nearly at such a brisk pace.
At any rate, I am glad I have my passport and it’s current because I did not want to have to go through the hassle of renewing it or getting a new one if I could not find the old one. I do have to get passport pics for the reason I was looking for it in the first place, but that’s not a big deal. I can just go to the nearest CVS or Walgreen and get that done in no time.
I learned something tonight. Sometimes, two heads are better than one. Also, when looking for something, clarify what the actual thing you’re looking for is. My brother and I were talking at cross-purposes in discussing the safe. It says something about communication in general and how you need to be on the same page (as to what you’re talking about) before actually discussing the issue at hand.
I also learned that ignoring things and hoping they’ll get better is not the way to go about it. Actually tackling the problem, while bothersome at the time, is the only way to put an issue to rest.