Strange and Unusual Things

I'm about to tell you a tale that you can believe or disbelieve. It doesn't matter, because it's the truth.

Not that I can explain it. 

I was shopping at the drug store many years ago, back when I was a  young adult (and yes, I had to dodge big old tyrannosaurus feet on my way there).

I remember it clearly: I was standing at the checkout line and they had this box full of cloisonne' pill boxes. They were very pretty, and pretty cheap, so I picked one up and purchased it.

I've had it in my purse ever since.

Except when I lose it.

Now, I've misplaced it a few times - leaving it at Mother's, asking Daughter to put it in her cavernous suitcase she calls a purse, things like that. 

But I've really truly lost it twice.

Once was a few years back. It was summertime and we had eaten out. I remember having on short sleeves and no pockets except a rather shallow one in my slacks. It was gone when I got home. We searched the car and the trail from the car to the house. We looked everywhere, including all purses, even though I knew I didn't even have a purse with me inside the restaurant. I called the restaurant. They searched, said it hadn't been turned in.

That fall, when it was a cool morning, I reached for a sweater that had been hanging in the chifferobe since spring. I felt something in the pocket, and you know what it was.

The question is: How the heck did it get there? I  had a really weird feeling when I held it in my hand. I can't explain it, other than I felt like it had come back to me.

Now, I know this sounds...unchristian? Superstitious? Bizarre? All the above?

There's more.

Sunday we ate out. I had my little pill box, took my meds and laid it with my phone on the table. When I got in the car, I vaguely remember putting my phone in the side pocket of my purse. 

The next time we were going out to eat, I couldn't find the pill box, and tried desperately to remember if I'd put it with the phone in my purse. I dumped my purse, Daughter dumped her purse, we once again scoured the car, I went through the clothes I had on. Called the restaurant, they looked in two places, no dice.

David found a little container he said I could use instead.

This went on for 2 weeks. 

If you've read previous blogs, you know our two tomcats have been feuding. They feuded under my bed, and I felt like it was now disorganized and full of cat fur, so I asked Daughter to move the bed and  help me clean under it.

In the precise middle of the floor underneath the bed, between boxes was my little pillbox. Not dusty or covered in cat hair like everything else under there. All shiny and waiting.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. 

You tell me.

'Cause I just don't know.