On the surface, it's been an uneventful week. Holly is getting better at being housebroken by which I mean we are gradually having fewer accidents per week. I have been plugging away at my boot camp and, as of today’s weekly weigh-in, have lost 10 lbs (4.5 kgs). I’m proofreading a MS for an author. Rob had three gigs this week. My mother is home from her winter trip to warmer climes. My daughter went away for the weekend to attend Kimute in Tennessee and will be back today. My boys are both doing well. Basically, all is right with my world.
Except for one thing. I can’t find my book Mindfulness Path to Self-Compassion. Seriously. I was more than halfway through it because it is my book for this month and I could easily see I would finish it by the end of the month, just as I had planned. Then it just disappeared. Rob can’t find it. I can’t find it. It’s just . . . gone. I haven’t left the house with it. Nobody has come over to perhaps steal it. Not that someone would steal it but I’m grasping at straws here.
Seriously, it’s like a sock disappearing in a dryer. There is no logical reason why this book is gone but it is and I am clueless about how to find it. Argh!
So what to do? I guess I could start my February book early. That way, when the other book turns up, as I know it will eventually, I can just pick up where I left off and not fall too far behind my annual goal. I just feel silly for not being able to find it. How hard can it be to find a book? Apparently, nearly impossible and, until it is found, that won’t change.
In the meantime, here's Holly huffing something she discovered although I have no clue what it is. Perhaps it's my book, mocking her from behind the oven or somewhere just under the house. I wouldn't put it past that book to do something like that. I obviously have no clue where it is.