Now here's a little ditty about my technologically dependent life.

I am the worst at losing things, I mean the WORST.  Like that one time I lost my drink and couldn't remember where I put it, but it was right in there on the counter where I left it?  Okay, that happens all the time.  Or when I misplaced that belt, only to give up and find it in a suitcase a couple months later?  Or when I lost my brown flip flops and never found them so I gave up and bought a new pair, only to find that they had been shoved under the bookcase two weeks later?  Or oh, how about that time I lost my iPod and thought I had mistakenly knocked it off my desk into the trash and dumped it, only to find it 4 months later outside sitting on top of  the gutter recently revealed thanks to a rainstorm moving the leaves off of it and it had sat through snow and rain and still worked? I put my phone down where I shouldn't and need to have someone call me, just to find it in the couch cushions.

So begins my tale of two and a half extremely sad days in my life.  Sunday was driving day, taking the teenagers back to the other house.  We got home about 6pm and I changed and started folding laundry and cleaning the kitchen up a bit since we had rushed off.  It was time to take a trip to the basement to say hi to the orcs wash the last load of clothes when I realized my Fitbit was not on me like usual.  I was already half way down the stairs so I continued to finish the laundry muttering something about not being able to count that flight of stairs I am going to go up and how sad that is going to be.  So after I start the washer I go up and retrieve the fitbit I set down on the kitchen table.  No fitbit.  I shuffled a few things around and thought, "Oh, I left it on the top of the couch with my keys and wallet because THAT'S a safe place to put it".  No fitbit.  Hmm. I must have set it on my desk and walked over and looked, no fitbit.  Well, I did go to the bathroom and sit in the sink and pluck my eyebrows when I came in because I saw some strays in the rear view mirror, so that's where it is.  No.fit.bit.  At this point I begin to have a slight panic attack because here I am walking all over my house and it's not counting my steps and calories.  After checking my room and clothes I told Goose, who was in the shower and had noticed I barreled into the bathroom frantically for the third time.

I decided maybe I set it in the kitchen after all and went in there to start the cleaning I had planned to do, starting with the kitchen table where I knew it was.  But it wasn't.  Crushed, I stomped to my bedroom and threw myself on the bed face first, all while Goose said something about me looking cute when I stick my lip out pouting, and I yelled into the bed "MY LIFE IS OVER IF I CAN'T FIND THAT THING!"  I flopped around like a dead fish on the bed for a minute thinking and whining, and talking it through with Goose, and decided to backtrack my steps.  I jumped up armed with my flashlight app and went outside to look in the car.  I searched the entire insides of the car, trudged back up the way we came in and saw nothing.  After checking with the computer, I saw it was still syncing so it had to be close by.  I knew it wasn't in the washer or the laundry.

Three hours later, Goose told me to relax and I'd find it tomorrow.  Now, I'm not going to say I cried but I kinda did a little bit.  That thing is expensive, AND ITS MY LIFE these days!  I mean, do you know what it does? It counts my steps and flights of stairs, counts my calories, registers my sleep cycle, counts ALL my hard work I have been doing with Insanity, tells me EVERYTHING.  What was I going to do without it?  I checked the sheets in case I tossed it on the bed and finding nothing, moped and gave up for the night.

Monday morning rolled around and I was determined to find it inside the couch, because hey that's where my phone and the remote goes so there must be some really cool gadget party going on in there.  I spent all Monday morning pulling out all the couch cushions, feeling around in case it jumped into any secret holes.  Moved the couches and cleaned out from under them.  I searched the entertainment center in case I stuck it there in passing.  I turned the living room upside down, cleaning up my desk, sifting through my desk trash can, mindlessly refreshing my fitbit page and glaring to see that 0 steps had been recorded.  I'VE TAKEN MANY STEPS YOU KNOW!  Well obviously it wasn't where I was looking.  I spent Monday afternoon gutting the bathroom basically, thinking what if I put it in there and it fell in the trash?  I went to bed still mad and sad and pouty and upset that I clearly was not going to meet my weekly step goal thanks to this debacle.

Tuesday I set the kids up with some snacks and tackled the kitchen hardcore.  Maybe it was in there shoved to the back of the counter?  I swept hoping it would pop out from under the baseboards saying "HAHAHA you found me! What a fun  game!".  I checked all the drawers to see if it slid off the counter.  I.looked.every.where. I went to the basement just to see if the orcs stole it  I was crazy and set it down there and just THOUGHT I didn't have it on me.  I looked over and over in all the same places I already had.  I even pulled the cushions apart because I just knew it was there.  I started on my bedroom that afternoon and kept feeling drawn to the book case searching it over and over.  Though I had searched it already, I pulled everything off Goose's desk and looked under and around and all over the floor.  Again I went to bed upset, not wanting to have to order a new one. Not til I had searched every place 89 times at least.

Wednesday had rolled around and I was really getting annoyed.  For one, I mean...all this searching counts for steps and calories burned and no.one.knows.  I mean it HAD to be right in front of me and I just don't see it.  Frustrated that I had searched the whole house, the car, outside, I decided to not worry about it for the day and workout and get ready for the concert I was going to for the night.  It was extremely annoying that I was working out and this fitbit was not attached to me helping track my activities.  I was still deciding what I should wear, and I went with the outfit I had worn recently, and went to brush my hair.  As I was in the teenagers room borrowing their good light and mirror I was second guessing my outfit choice, and scrutinizing what should I change about it when I saw a blue light.  I dropped the brush and  gasped and screamed "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

There it was, my fitbit, clipped onto the belt I had worn Sunday night camouflaged and hiding from me.  I cheered in joy, and the tiny humans cheered with me knowing I had been looking for it.  We all high-fived, and I yelled at that fitbit for hiding from me and scaring me into mini-depression for two and a half days.  I had checked this belt twice! I had looked RIGHT AT IT and missed it! I just never remembered clipping it back onto my belt! When I last saw it, it was in my hand and then I drew a blank as to where it was after.  Now I knew...my sneaky hand tricked me.  I was so happy to have it back but I realized this generation is so technologically dependent on things.  I mean I knew that, but I didn't realize how important some gadgets can be! Like, what if I had lost my life alert system? Goose would never let me order another one, he'd just say "You would fall and just have to get up or wait til someone finds you".  Okay okay that's a lie, I don't have a life alert system. Yet.