The Only 'Lost' I Care About

The pain of losing personal effects is something that I have experienced many times going far back into childhood. It began with a long string of jackets which each in turn went missing mainly at school. As time passed, the items lost began to be of greater and greater value as I got older and starting having nicer things. Of course, that levels off, so I haven't gotten to the point of losing mink stoles and sports cars as the initial pace would have projected. Even so, the modest things I lose today are no more pleasant for being of humble value.

What happens during the tempest of losing something? It begins when it's not where I expect it to be. I very reasonably check the couple of slightly less likely places it might be. If it's not there, I continue checking down the imagined list with greater concern. Upon reaching the end of that, I start re-tracing your steps and praying to St. Anthony. Should that fail to resolve the matter, I break down and start checking with other people. If this doesn't turn it up, the next steps depend on the item.

If it's really minor and/or time is a factor, I replace it promptly, If the cost is something more than minor and/or time is no factor, I wait in hopes that it will turn up (This is hard, because jumping the gun ends the unpleasantness sooner but makes trouble should the item turn up afterwords). Should it not, I reach the emotional readiness to replace it or do without. Whichever decision I make, the pain abates and I move on with your life.

A couple of recent examples of this fearful specter come to mind. A particular receipt needed for a substantial rebate on my phone generated in my no small amount of worry and panic, in spite of the fact that receipts for such things are retained by the business and reprinted extremely easily. That didn't stop me from making an ordeal of it. That storm passed just in time for me to realize I could not find a library book. To say that my reaction was disproportionate to the level of concern called for is an understatement. I don't know whether it's particularly due to my affection for the library or the fact that the missing item doesn't belong to me, but I do know that I got more upset than the potential loss of $45 calls for.

Ultimately, I (and you as well, I suppose) must try to embody the philosophy that going through this whole thing is indicative of the fact that our consumption and materialism leave us owned by our possessions rather than owning them. I heard of Frank Sinatra saying such a thing once. It's too bad he didn't record a song about it.