Where is my bleeping brain?

There comes a point in time when you realize that it is not possible to pay to become smarter. In common sense that is. I graduated from college, I really did, with honors even. That proves that I have some kind of book smarts, or at least I know how to study to pass a test or something. College apparently does not increase one’s common sense, as I have proven today.

Remember yesterday when I drove one hour down to Fredericksburg to our storage unit to get our lovely Christmas boxes? Those magical red boxes that contain the secret to life’s happiness, of which if we did not have them the wonderment of the holiday season would never materialize? And when I got down there, remember, I could not find those boxes? Remember how I drove a whole hour back and then searched the attic, thinking maybe I was a loon for not checking the attic before driving two hours out of my way? And remember how the boxes weren’t in the attic?

I was right about one thing. The boxes indeed were not in the attic. I can attest to that because I drove an hour down to Fredericksburg again this morning (and an hour back) ready to either lose my mind completely or file a police report. I double checked the house before I left. I checked in miniscule areas of closets just to make sure we didn’t shrink the beautiful red boxes in order to make them fit into our tiny house. Apparently, in my world, that could happen. I checked my purse to make sure I had the combination to open the gate to access the storage unit. I checked my purse to make sure I had the key to unlock the one-inch thick padlock guarding our earthly treasures. I checked to make sure I had Jeeves, our handy GPS unit that would remind me how to get there, although I could remember because I had been there not even 24 hours ago. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t have remembered. I checked to make sure both kids were strapped in their car seats because, well, you know.

Everything seemed in order and I even remembered to fill up on gas so as not to run out on the way down. The truck was low with all the useless driving around I’ve been doing lately. My main motivation for going today was that I didn’t want what was about to happen, to happen when Du would be off work and able to come down with us. Because you can play off stupidity in front of your kids, but it’s a little harder when your spouse is standing right there wondering whether to commit you or not.

I rolled up the door to the storage unit and went immediately to the boxes I had inspected yesterday. Yesterday I saw boxes that had “Gar”, meaning “garage”, written plainly on them. Today those boxes magically had X-MAS also written on them.

I bet you can see that without even squinting can’t you. Shut up. I could swear to you that X-MAS wasn’t on that box yesterday but that wouldn’t mean much would it. I can’t believe I missed that yesterday! And it’s not like the boxes are hidden by anything. See that empty spot over on the left?

That’s the front of the unit. The boxes were there. In plain view. Waiting for someone with more than two neurons bumping together in empty skull space to find them.

So, here are my excuses. Ahem. If you’ll notice, the boxes are not a beautiful Rubbermaid red. Naturally, I was looking for red and simply overlooked the cardboard brown. Also, when we pulled up there were two dudes loading boxes into their truck. I had to park right next to them. And, not wanting to offend them by locking my truck. . .obviously my attentions were elsewhere when I was searching. And add to that Reagan telling me, “I thought our Christmas stuff was in the attic.”

And, why did I care what those dudes thought? I had just drove an hour. And why didn’t I see that huge “X-MAS” glaring at me? Why didn’t I consider that the packers might have put our pretty red boxes into their own cardboard boxes? Because I’ve lost my bleeping brain. You know, “they” say you lose half your brain when you give birth. Well, I’ve given birth twice, and I can do that math.

I managed to get every box that possibly has Christmas stuff in it. And if any crap beautiful holiday decor is left down there, well then, it just wasn’t meant to grace our house this Christmas. Now, I must go and find horizontal surfaces to place all of this…holiday merriment… Fortunately I’m not a big decorator in the first place and therefore there shouldn’t be a whole lot of stuff to place. And that’s a whole ‘nother story, where to put the flippin’ tree.