astercontrol:

Minor annoyance of the day:

I started eating a chocolate chip cookie this morning. I no longer have this cookie, but I still have a strong feeling that I didn’t eat the whole cookie yet.

Usually, this means I set the partially-eaten cookie down somewhere, and just need to find it.

However, I’m having uncommon difficulty finding it this time around.

This means that either

1. I actually ate the entire cookie, and for some reason my usually-reliable mental inventory decided to continue listing the wholly-eaten cookie as half-eaten…
2. Or, I set down a half-eaten cookie, and my usually-reliable skill at locating cookies I set down is failing to find it.

Either one is both 1. annoying and 2. less-than-reassuring in regard to the health of my short-term memory.

I know there are worse things in the world, but sometimes I have to take a moment for the little things as well.

Damn cookie.

Update:

It has gotten worse.

Today I came into my room carrying a half-eaten handful of very delicious little chocolate-peanut-butter cookies which I found in the kitchen. Maybe three or four of them… I hadn’t kept track of the exact number remaining at that point.

As I crossed the threshold, I felt one of the cookies slip out of my hand, and heard the sound of it hitting the floor.

After hurriedly eating the rest of them to prevent further loss, I searched the floor for the fallen one.

There is a very limited area in which it physically could have fallen.

I have searched this area, and well beyond it. By sight, by touch, by sweeping with a broom.

The only substantial objects that have turned up are chunks of pumice stone (from the substrate of the lizard cage that I’ve been rearranging the past few days, in preparation for moving out).

The possibilities this time around are even more concerning:

1. I have vastly underestimated the range a dropped cookie can end up in after landing, despite searching at least 5 times the range I initially thought possible.
2. I did not in fact lose a cookie, but instead, somehow, mistook some other sensation for the feeling of a cookie falling out of my hand– AND then mistook some other sound (perhaps a movement of one of those pumice stones) for the sound of it hitting the floor.
3. The cookies in the kitchen were one of those tricky gifts from the Fae, and they were destined to change into worthless pumice stones upon being brought into my own domain.

… Any of those options would freak me out at least a bit.

This is, also, more inconvenient than my previous mystery of the chocolate chip cookie, because I was at least fairly sure that THAT cookie, if it still existed, had been set down on an elevated surface.

This one, if it exists, is on the FLOOR.

Meaning that no matter how impossible it is for me to find, the DOG will find it instantly if she comes in here. And, being chocolate, it will make her violently sick all over the house.

So, in the midst of all my packing and moving and bringing things out of my room– a task ALREADY made a thousandfold more inconvenient by the constant presence of the Dog– I will ADDITIONALLY have to ensure that I close the door EVERY time I leave my room, no matter how much stuff I am carrying.

Additional note! In the spirit of the nuanced Walrus/Fairy debate…

• The three possibilities I have listed are in order of how much they would surprise me, from least to most.
• However, they are in reverse order of how much they would UPSET me… because the first and likeliest one is also the only one where a chocolate cookie / doggie landmine actually exists on the floor of my room.

I think I’m glad to be moving out of here. Something in this room does not like me. Or at least does not approve of my cookie-eating habits.