I lost another hairbrush today. That’s two so far this month. Three if you count back to December.
I keep forgetting them at the gym; leaving them behind after I’m done getting ready. By the time I go back, they have inevitably vanished- the lost and found box holding nothing but bitter disappointment.
This concerns me for a couple of reasons:
- Who is keeping these? And why would they want some random stranger’s hairbrush? Isn’t that kind of gross?
……Unless he or she is using it to make a hair doll in my likeness. In which case, this may be the last post I write to you.
But more importantly,
2. Because it exemplifies a broader pattern of behaviour.
While I would like to blame these missing items on some sort of mystical, nefarious hairbrush elf, I have to admit that my general lack of conscientiousness is probably part of the problem. A quick mental tally reveals that over the past few months, I have left all of the following items at the gym:
- Two bottles of dry shampoo
- One pair of iPod headphones
- One MAC eyeliner pencil in “Ebony”
- Two earrings (alas; each from a separate pair)
- One bottle of Dermalogica face wash (I cried real human tears over this one. Sh*t is ex$pensive)
- Three single socks
- A banana I planned to eat later that afternoon
- One glove.
I now moonwalk everywhere.
This list doesn’t even include the pair of perfectly broken-in Saucony’s I left at my local YMCA in 2003. I’m still pining over those bad boys.
Sadly, this is more than just a gym-related problem. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t permanently glued to a reality TV show. (Or however that expression goes.)
While jewellery, clothing and personal items all seem to vanish under my watch, I have a particular knack for losing really important documents. When I get an official looking letter in the mail, I immediately take this as a cue to haphazardly discard it onto my desk. It invariably gets buried under a stack of US Weeklys, or old concert tickets I planned to file in my Museum of Innocence (aka: my memory box), never to be seen again.
Doing my taxes then becomes a nightmare, as I have to call every single person who has ever given me a T4, Student Loan, or charitable tax receipt (ha. Just kidding, I don’t get any of those) and ask for a new one. Sometimes, I try and be all “well you never sent it to me in the first place” but they never buy it. They’ve seen my kind before. We’re flagged in the system.
I also have no idea where my birth certificate is. But I do carry my Passport around with me at all times. Even when I go to the bar. I’m basically an identity theft victim waiting to happen.
I guess I take after my mother, who is a bit of a Linda Loses-sh*t herself. She misplaces at least 5-6 Christmas presents every year, and the whereabouts of her reading glasses is a perpetually unsolved mystery. She will spend hours frantically looking for them, only to find them dangling inconspicuously from the chain hanging around her neck.
Come to think of it, that chain thing is sort of a good idea. Maybe that’s what I need: a series of tethers attaching all of my worldly possessions to various parts of my body.
I might look a little weird, but at least I won’t lose any more sh*t.
And to the person who stole all my hairbrushes: I forgive you. I understand that the lure of an impeccably coiffed mane can be nearly impossible to resist. But should you ever change your mind and decide to return the treasures you have taken, know that I, and my limp, lifeless hair, will be eternally grateful.
Yours in styling,