Get Your Crazy Finger Ready

Did you ever lose something important that you'd put away in a specific place for safekeeping? And then forgot where that specific safe space was?

Tuesday morning, I spent about 90 minutes tearing the homestead apart, looking for my old checkbook register. I need it, you know, for tax purposes. To sort out our deductible expenses. I only have 8 months left to find it!!!

I hate it when I fill up a checkbook register. I don't do online banking. A paper checkbook register is not affected by power outages or computer deaths. My bank account stopped sending the cancelled checks to me many years ago. I can still get a copy from them if needed, for a price. But I don't really miss the cancelled checks. With Hick being retired now, and on the loose, we have a lot more transactions every month than just checks. I have a record of them, you know, all in one place, the checkbook register. Which is now someplace I can't remember.

Yes, I hate the exchange of old checkbook register for new. I always put the old one with the tax materials, which are on my desk in my dark basement lair. While that old checkbook register is in limbo, waiting for me to check the outstanding transactions with the automated bank phone, I put Ol' Reggie in a box that contains the unused checks. Or else on the kitchen counter, in the bill and letter holder, with the most recent utility statements, in case I need account numbers.

Uh huh. There are only three places Ol' Reggie could be: upstairs in a box of checks, on the kitchen counter in the bill and letter holder, or downstairs in the lair. I tore those places apart! In fact, I searched every one of those places, and areas adjacent, THREE TIMES! With no success. I even went so far as to clean off some superfluous papers and mail that were laying around.

I was whipping myself into a frenzy. I HATE unresolved issues like that! I knew I hadn't thrown Ol' Reggie away. I barely throw anything away, without letting it sit a little while, ruminating on whether I might need it again. I have a stable of Ol' Reggies, filed by year with the tax forms. No way was Ol' Reggie marinating in the dumpster. I'd only switched him out right before our Pony trip. I've barely thrown away anything since we returned.

Since Walmart, bank, and post office awaited my arrival, I had to give up my search and head to town. I couldn't get Ol' Reggie out of my mind. That's not good. Nobody wants a distracted Mrs. Hillbilly Mom behind the wheel of T-Hoe. By the time I reached the cemetery for my Mom visit, my brain was about to overheat. WHERE did I put Ol' Reggie???

I had a short chat with Mom, per usual, me sitting in T-Hoe, parked on the wrong side of the cemetery lane, about 6 feet (thankfully not UNDER) from the plot, window down, filling her in on the recent happenings. It only takes 4-5 minutes before I'm on my way. Because nothing much happens around here. As an afterthought, I mentioned that I was GOING CRAZY looking for Ol' Reggie.

Let's get real. It's not like I expected Mom to answer. Some people are pray-ers, but I, myself, am not, unless somebody asks for them. Some folks believe that St. Joseph (a statue, of course), buried head down in your yard, can help you sell the house. Some folks ask St. Francis to look out for their pets. Let the record show that I did not expect Mom or any other departeds to find Ol' Reggie for me.

What I DO believe is that sometimes, you overthink yourself. You can get so focused on one issue that you block yourself from succeeding. You go round and round, not resolving the issue. So...I merely mentioned, as I was getting ready to leave, that I sure would like to find Ol' Reggie, if Mom might have any insider tips. You know. Maybe I'd have a dream that night, and my subconscious would be unlocked, and I could tell myself in dream pictures where I might have stashed Ol' Reggie. Nothing miraculous or supernatural. Just a subliminal suggestion. "Yeah, Mom, I'm going to let it go. I'm not thinking about it the rest of this trip. I'm done. If it's meant to be, it'll be." (also one of my current favorite songs).

After my errands were done, and the groceries carried in and put away, and the dogs given their cat kibble treat...I stood at the kitchen counter, before getting my Chicken Bacon Ranch Pinwheels (and 44 oz Diet Coke, of course), ready to carry down to my lair. I was taking a package of frozen fajita chicken and separating it into four baggies, for more individual portions. As I set two paper plates on the counter to dump out the chicken, moving back the Styrofoam bowl stack that holds my excess quarters/dimes/nickels/pennies for daily soda, a thought hit me.

DID I PUT OL' REGGIE ON THE BOWL STACK?

All I could see on top was a coupon for Terrible Cuts that I was saving for my next terrible cut, and a coupon for Imo's Pizza, which we've never had here locally, and haven't had from anywhere in at least two years. I lifted the coupons up, and there underneath was OL' REGGIE! I'd found my missing checkbook register!

Thanks, Mom!

NOW is when you all lift your hand to twirl your crazy finger next to your temple.
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COINCIDENTALLY, since Blog Buddy Joe H might ask, if I haven't confused him again so soon...I glanced at my cell phone that morning, while writing out some bills before starting The Search For Ol' Reggie, and the time was 11:11.

Also, that night, around 9:50, I was scrolling through random videos in the ALL function of BitChute, and noticed one called "The Citystead release the ladybugs." It had only been up for 30 minutes, or would have been way down past where I would scroll. This dude and his kids release 1500 ladybugs into their garden.

https://www.bitchute.com/video/h92GSQESKcjD/

Around 2:30 into that video, a little red-haired girl says, "Some of them are orange, some of them are red, some of them have spots, and some of them are bare."

COINCIDENTALLY...
My mom had red hair. I'm pretty sure that at one time, she was a little girl.
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This might call for a DOUBLE crazy-finger twirl.