My eyeglass case was missing.
I had placed the light, light blue case on my bed, eyed it as I was getting ready for bed, and planned to tuck my glasses in before turning off the light.
Then the case vanished.
I searched on my bed, by my bed, and on my black futon couch, where I sometimes put clothing. I had, in fact, dumped a gray sweatshirt there, and I moved it to one side. No case.
The next day I searched again. Bed, floor, futon: no case.
That night I dreamed I found the case. That seemed promising.
The next morning I wanted to make a case about my missing case. I looked around and found two more I could use–one purple lightweight champion, the other heavy metal–in case my light, light blue case didn’t appear.
I was thinking of wearing a t-shirt, but the weather looked coolish. It could warm up later, though. I’d wear a long-sleeved tee. My blue and white shirt was folded neatly on my couch. I picked it up. I sat on my bed. I put on the t-shirt. I glanced over at my couch. There, awaiting me, was my special case.
I recalled that the long-sleeved t-shirt had been on my bed, after doing laundry the other day. When it was time for bed, I moved it, and without thinking, the case also.
I relayed solving that mystery to a friend, who is ten years older. She laughed and said, “I do that kind of thing all the time.” Then she added, “Welcome to aging.”