I've lost a piece of paper.
It's the one on which I jot ideas for this blog, which invariably strike me at times when I'm not actually seated in front of the computer.
You homeschooling moms out there know exactly what I mean; how some nice thought about the arrival of spring, or some reflection born as you remember the homily you heard Sunday on the Gospel which didn't turn out to be the prodigal son story after all (note to self: pay attention when the NCCB lists a choice of Sunday readings in future) (further note to self: write that down on a piece of paper)--oh, wait. Where was I?
Writing things down.
Anyway, you'll be struck by some nice idea and you think that you'll jot that down for later, only instead of having some nice crisp little notebook for the purpose, you're using the backs of the page-a-day Far Side calendar your husband gave you for Christmas, which also get used by the kids for everything from spelling lists to reverse tracings of the Far Side cartoons on the fronts, so somewhere along the way the piece with the most recent ideas on it ends up in the mysterious black hole where all the things the kids swear they didn't take, use, or throw away end up, and then you're staring at a blank computer screen shortly before midnight on a Tuesday that happens to be the first day of spring, thinking to yourself, "Say something!"
Of course, the reason you have to jot the idea down at all is because those ideas never come when you actually have time to blog. No. They show up when you're grading a math test and dealing with a nearly-tearful child's frustration with adverbs and the words they modify, which if capitalized would sound like some kind of odd anthropological documentary, but instead are just the grammar book's latest sinister plot to torture us all until we crack, which is intrinsically evil of it and I should really call in Mark Shea for advice.
I have to admit that even if I'd found the paper it wouldn't have done me much good. I'm rather prone to jotting down cryptic phrases, like 'contraception diet soft drinks absence of primary purpose--sugar good or evil?' and leaving it at that. Which, when I read it later, causes a sudden rush of comprehension as I mutter, "Stark raving lunacy!" and toss the poor used calendar page unceremoniously into the trash, which should almost be a crime considering the Gary Larson artwork on the other side of it.
Which, of course, means that I've probably accused the kids (silently, to myself, for once) of throwing the latest batch of ideas away quite unjustly, and have probably in my never-ending yet fruitless quest to remove at least one layer of paper from the top of the computer desk thrown the blasted thing away myself.
And given what you've been reading, if any of you are still with me, that's probably a good thing.