I am, however, currently irritated nonetheless, by another loss. In the cramped chaos of my dwelling space, I am unable to find certain USGS maps long in my possession, of which I find myself in want. This means I must either forgo the map-requiring project I had in mind, or I must take some time to dismantle the haphazardly arranged accumulation of objects among which the maps are now concealed. This tiresome chore is one I greatly dislike, and it always ends up taking longer than I expect.
I'm having strange dreams of late, but not remembering more than the merest fragments of them. Of course, this limited memory means that I can't be sure that I'm not actually having rather ordinary dreams containing a mere few memorable fragments. Still, I'd like to see inside that room the door of which was tantalizingly ajar, and find the source of the music I heard briefly before today's commonplace waking world intruded.
Why do so many things get lost?