The Lost Are Found

I may have mentioned before that I am an INFP.

In other words, I can be scattered.  I am good at coming up with big ideas, but not necessarily following through on little details.  I get inspired.  Very inspired.  Then I get depressed when reality does not seem as inspirational as it should.

Also, I lose things.  Many things.

When I was very young, I would get stacks of books out of the library.  In classic INFP fashion, I would then straw them from one end of the house to the other, reading as I went.  Perhaps it is no surprise that on the day the books were due, I had some difficulty collecting them all to return to the library.

After that, my mom limited me to two books at a time.  I could usually keep track of both of them.


Remember the camera?  Yeah, me too.  Well literally, not a week after I wrote that post, I was packing for a beach vacation, and what did I find wallowing in the bottom of my closet among flip-flops and sneakers and sandals???  MY CAMERA!  Yes, the very same camera that was thought to have been lost in New Hampshire was really only lost in my closet.  And no, numerous interrogations have not yielded any information as to why it was there.  I literally had not seen it since that trip...

Then there was my J hook.  For those who do not crochet, crochet hook sizes are labeled in letters.  So a J hook is just a hook for crocheting that is medium-sized.

Anyway, last year sometime, I took a notion to teach myself to crochet.  Again.  (Another classic sign of an INFP -- starting projects and not finishing them.  Yeah.)  Well, the crochet pattern that I found required a J hook and some thick yarn.  I found the thick yarn.  But the J hook had mysteriously disappeared from my case of crochet hooks.  I vaguely remembered taking it out to do some project, but who knew where it had ended up after that....

I went to the craft store to buy a new J hook.  I ended up buying an I hook by mistake.  Then I gave it up and just used a K hook.  Alas...

Just yesterday, my J hook was resurrected from the bottom of a bag containing materials for loop weaving with a plastic loom.  Who would have guessed?

Rereading my blog posts, I noticed my enthusiasm at the beginning of the summer.  How much writing I would do with so much time in which to do it!

My last post?  A month ago!

Apparently, stress motivates writing more than lack of stress.  Who knew?

I think perhaps it is too late to change my personality.  I will always lose things.

But the sudden inspiration of finding lost things is all mine.  And I am OK with that.