Do you lose things? Misplace your glasses, keys, cellphone, or worse?
A few weeks ago I saw advertised a bit of wizardry called TrackR bravo, a coin-sized, wireless device that attaches to anything you want to track. The two wholesome-looking, geeky guys who invented it claim it can find lost items in seconds. However, it is still in production and won’t be available just yet.
Here is a bit of verse contributed by husband Cliff on the occasion of his un-earthing treasures long forgotten in drawers, filing cabinets, and notebooks. These lines dated January 2004 were inspired by his discovering a plastic container of leftover artichoke dip, with mold growing on top, tucked inside an enclosed green sandwich cooler bag, hanging quietly for a day or two on the back of a kitchen chair.
Button, Button. Who’s got the button?
Glasses, Glasses. Oh, where did I put those glasses?
Keys, keys. Why did some Martian leave them in my van door overnight?
Windows, windows. Why would windows be partway open, when I know I closed them tightly the night before?
Names, names. Why do people always change their names, when their faces remain the same?
Pens, pens. Why do they secretly skip to someplace else, when no one is watching?
Book, book. Why did that book hide itself beneath the bed again?
Folder, folder. Would someone please tell me how my folder mysteriously appeared somewhere else?
Cell phone, cell phone. Why isn’t that cell phone with me now when I know I just saw it a moment ago?
Date, date. Who changed my appointment for Wednesday on the calendar that I knew for certain was on Friday?
Remote, remote. Who snuck in while I was in the kitchen and hid my remote?
List, list. How can I get along without my “To Do” list? I’d swear I left it on the dresser, a window ledge, my hat box or . . .
Wander, wander. Why do I always have to go back to where I came from, to find out what I had forgotten?
Zipper, zipper. Who is it who, ghost-like, unzips the very pants I parade to work in?
Artichoke dip, artichoke dip. Now where did I leave that nice little dip? Why would it be inside the green cooler bag hanging on a kitchen chair, sporting a fuzzy growth of mold on top?
Brain, brain. Am I losing my mind? “Ding, Dong.” Is Alzheimer’s at my front door?
Remember, remember. Oh dear, what else have I forgotten to remember?
Oh well, I’ll now put on my shirt . . . “Pop!” Button, button. Who’s got the button?
A side note:
The day after reading the poem to Marian at dinnertime she asked, “Have you seen the poem?”
I told her the last time I had seen it was on the kitchen table after reading it. “Did you put it in your hat box under the wicker coffee table?” I quizzed.
“Oh dear me, Button, Button Poem, Button, Button Poem. Who’s got the Button, Button Poem?”
You have stories of loss, recovery, and perhaps loss – again. Your anecdote fits right here!
Coming next: “What’s Your Name Again?”
30 thoughts on “Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button?”
Very amusing, Marian!
I can’t think of a specific incident, but I’m sure I will become very forgetful about lots of other stuff in the next few weeks as I immerse myself in my copyedited manuscript and try to make deadlines. 🙂
Right brain – left brain, let’s build a bridge if that’s what it takes to get mind and body synchronized. 😉 Best wishes on your manuscript edits. Remember, remember, you have always met deadlines before. This one is no exception. Cheers, Merril!
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Note, note: what on earth does this scribbled note mean and why did I want to keep it? Love your hub’s list. Here we get a 2-for blog: Marian and Cliff. Nice!
Cliff keeps stuff – yes, he’s a hoarder! However, as you can see, it pays off. Who knows what’s still to come. As long as the recovered treasure is paper and doesn’t take up much space (now that we are preparing to down-size) I don’t mind. Thanks for the comment, Melodie! I’ll let you know when those cookbooks arrive – can’t wait!
Thanks for reminding me, I misplace things so often! But…I remember playing Button, Button, Who’s Got The Button when I was a child! It was a favorite game when Mother wanted us to play quietly!
Smart Mama you had! We had many quiet games in our family too – tiddly winks, pick up sticks, all requiring some physical action though – not images gyrating on a computer screen.
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Thank you Marian and Cliff. Fun, except when I misplace my glasses or my keys in another mindless moment. I want ringers on everything, please. We once traveled to Europe for a month with a 2 1/2 year old son, two backpacks for all of us and one umbrella stroller. How did we do that? Love the ending.
About your European trip. We did that too with Eurail passes, but we didn’t have a 2 1/2 year-old son. How did you do that? Like us, you were younger and yearning to see the world. It makes a difference – ha!
The cup of coffee I’d put in the microwave to warm …searched the house for it for two days. Just shows how much I use the microwave.
My son at the age of five witnessed me trashing the house in search of my car keys then watched as I sobbed uncontrollably on the bed, only to find them on the overly flowery duvet cover. You’ve opened a can of worms here Marian. I like the idea of the geek with the invention …bring it on .
We all love reading your witty, wildly true anecdotes. I, for sure, can relate to variations on each of them. The flowery duvet cover is especially hilarious, in retrospect of course.Thanks, Cherry!
Oh, Dear Marian, you make me laugh out loud ( and I can hear your laughter!) I can relate to everything you’ve said here. I love Cliff’s little ditty. One of the best things about having had cataract surgery and not needing eyeglasses is that it is one less item I have to waste my time trying to find. I’m so happy to be back to read your delightful stories. Keep on writing, my friend. 🙂
I have pretty good vision, but since my cute eyeglass-holder necklace broke, I now have to look for glasses again. No problem with my cellphone at home though. I just dial my home number and after about 5 seconds, I hear the marimba tone somewhere in the house. 😉
This post is largely constructed from Cliff’s journal. In case you haven’t read his seriously sad/happy story published Easter weekend, here is the link: https://plainandfancygirl.com/2015/03/31/a-robbery-sad-friday-and-a-clump-of-daffodils/
Thank you for the encouragement, Kathy. Blog post topics usually come easily to me, but memoir writing is a totally different animal. I always knew it took persistence to write a book, but I am discovering now that the ability to tolerate ambiguity (i.e., floundering) is a virtue I have had to develop on the fly. I know you understand, and I appreciate your standing with me in this venture.
Marian — Clearly Cliff has a terrific sense of humor!
My top three “where are they” items are:
1. My glasses case (not the glasses themselves)
2. My flip-flops
3. The fingernail clippers
Everything has a place, and we swear up and down that we put the items back in their place. YET…somehow — on a regular basis — they mystically and magically relocate themselves to places unknown!
Yes, there is a nasty little imp that impulsively re-locates our need-it-right-now paraphernalia and then retreats to a corner and laughs, laughs about our predicaments. You are right: It is mystical, magical, and maddening.
Make sure the next pair of flip-flops you buy have neon flashers on them – ha!
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I remember playing “Button, Button, Who Has the Button” in the living room. All we needed was a single button, and we had many hours of fun across all the generations.
That Cliff enjoys playing. No wonder he is such a hit with school children and grandchildren.
I have solved my glasses problems by having one pair at my desk, one in another drawer, and another on my nose –I think! Ah yes, there they are. Sometimes I get into trouble when I put them on top of my head.
When my sisters and I get together we often talk about sitting on the porch swing on a Saturday evening playing a count-the-car game, the winner chosen on the basis of highest number of car color spotted. These simple games sound like something from a different planet in comparison to kids’ touch-tech games nowadays.
Yes, I get into trouble with glasses on top of my head too. I’ve even had keys-in-my-hand experiences. So glad to have you back. You were definitely missed, Shirley.
I just don’t understand it! Just last night I put three black things in the washer: thing 1, thing 2 and thing 3. Then, I cleared the washer, placed 1-3 in the dryer and all I got this morning were Thing 1 and Thing 2. There has got to be a logical explanation!
Cute poem by Mr. Beaman. Oh how I can relate and lol.
I too think washer/driers are mystical disappearing machines. I’ve seen a zippered pouch with large holes that touts to keep your socks in pairs when they go through the cycles. Maybe that’s the solution! As you can see from the replies, there is a community of folks that experience these puzzlers. Glad you enjoyed this bit of fluff, Georgette!
I’m smiling from ear to ear thank you Cliff. Guilty on ALL counts! Am amazed you didn’t say about the single sock! Thanks Marian for this post 🙂 🙂
As you can see above, Georgette had a 1-2-3 recent experience. I’m not sure she was speaking about socks, but it was definitely about clothing doing a disappearing act.
Cliff may not have mentioned the disappearing sock phenomenon because I’m usually the one doing laundry – at least I was back in 2004 when he wrote the lines. Thanks, Susan!
Georgette, If you had a different COLOR for each of the Black Things 1,2,3 when you put them into the drier, then you know the missing color renegade. Most likely you would find that the missing color had a “colored past” and that it probably had family issues in its early life as a thread.
Georgette, the comment came from my husband Cliff Beaman.
Cute. I’d still be looking for my glasses but I bought 6 pairs so now there’s one in every room in the house. America’s Best Eyeglasses must love me!
That’s a clever solution, Debby!. By the way, welcome to “plainandfancy” today. I’m going over to check out your blog as soon as I post this! Do visit again.
Oh, I’m well-versed in ‘missing meno moments’, lol. This article is delightful. It almost reminds me of Dr. Seuss.
Yes, I guess all the repetition is Dr. Seuss-ian, come to think of it. Did you notice the ancient cellphone? Thanks for your comment, Debby!
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It seems there is a place somewhere where all the lost things gather. If only I could find it.
That’s the best one-word summary of the dilemma I’ve heard yet. It’s a BINGO!