Tuesday, 8 January 2019

Lost

Many annoying things happen every second of every minute of my life: people laugh insufficiently at my jokes; the Guardian pushed notifications to my phone today of the discovery of a 64m long fatberg beneath a seaside town in Devon; and, I have lost my favourite t-shirt. I lost it highly effectively in the superior loss mode of losing something without even knowing how. It is not special or cute to lose stuff by, say, disembarking from a train and forgetting to take it with you, then going Oh No I left my thing on a train. Tragic dignity comes only with total mystification.

Well, this t-shirt, which is black, has a deep scoop neck and elbow-length sleeves, was last seen when I wore it to Ballarat on 29 December. It's not in with the clothes I'm giving away and it didn't go into the wheelie bin, and I have established quite definitivilively that it's not interleaved between my bed sheets. Having said that I know I am going to spend another restless night moping in the groggy conviction that indeed it IS somewhere inside my bed, probably I'll grope around under the pillows and lose my sense of direction. Last night I worried about it from maybe two a.m. to around five, when I fell asleep and had a nightmare where it made a cameo appearance. At the very worst moment of the dream I woke up with my heart pounding and limbs heavy as lead. Obviously the real source of worry is something other than the t-shirt although I really would be pleased to see it again. You can never go back, though, can you?

If you ever see my t-shirt please say hello to it from me.

6 comments:

lucy tartan said...

It was in my bed actually

Fyodor said...

I suspect your comment was the punchline to a joke but am afraid to ask ...

One thing that did make me laugh inordinately was the fatberg article, totes especially the frightfully earnest jobsworth from South West Water instructing Devonians not to "feed the fatberg". It's the kind of thing that desperately needs immediate memeing. Oh feckit, I'll give it a lash: Don't feed the fatberg, fucker.

Liam said...

[to the tune of the Smiths' Panic:]

Feed the fatberg, feed the fatberg
feed the fatberg, feed the fatberg
feed the fatberg feed the fatberg feed the fatberg

lucy tartan said...

Nary an intentional punchline in sight. I found my errant t-shirt in the bed, and then I found it necessary to get up, turn on the lights, open my laptop again and correct the written record.

Well I shall try to think of a suitably alarming joke for which "It was in my bed actually" would make a nice punchline. And finally, now it's my turn to be afraid to ask, because when I try to open your meme my computer acts like I've tried to send it to a site operated by the Internet Research Agency.

lucy tartan said...

Thanks Liam, nice version, needs more fatberg

elsewhere said...

Oh, the relief. I usually lose these signature pieces of clothing when I'm travelling for work, which is I guess why I take them with me--because they're so handy and versatile.