In Plain Sight, Sort Of

One thing I'll tell you about getting older: it's easier to hide things from myself.

I walked into my front hall this morning after my walk, took my phone out of my pocket and set it down, took my hat off and set it down, and took my coat off and hung it up. Then I went to the kitchen and got a cup of coffee. Then I couldn't find my phone.

It wasn't anywhere. I was beginning to panic; did I drop it outside and not notice? But if so I would have surely heard it hit the sidewalk. But if I did drop it, finding the darn thing might mean retracing a lot of steps, as far as ten or so blocks from the house. Crap.

Wait a minute. I checked my time right before the front porch to make certain I had trod enough steps. So it can't be that far.

Yet it wasn't nearby outside. It must, it simply must, be in the house.

It of course was. I had sat it on the hall table and placed my hat on top of it. Maybe I do need to move things when I'm searching for stuff.