The Lost is Found

So when I put my left hearing aid in to watch “The Crown” and the news, I notice for the first time that my right transmitter is not in its proper place. Since Carol lost her hearing aids a couple of times, I’ve been extra diligent to put mine in the desk with closed doors – unless I forget and leave them in and set them behind the computer screen upstairs or on the shelf above my bed.

Where could it be? I remember I put my iPods with the dangling ear buds in there for safe keeping. Usually I put them in a basket in the hall. Did they catch on the dangling ear buds when I pulled the iPods out? I pull everything out underneath. I get down on my hands and knees and search underneath the desk and water stand. I run upstairs and check by the computer; I search the shelves in our bedroom. I look in my sweatshirt pocket when I put my iPod. Nothing. During the sleepless night, for I hate to lose things, I piece together the last time I saw it. I don’t wear it to watch TV because I’m a tightwad and only having one in uses half the battery. I don’t think it helps anyway. The last time I had both in was when we went to the I-Max on Saturday. I remember specifically putting them in the desk and closing the door. I didn’t wear them to church on Sunday because it was ward conference and I figured if I didn’t hear everything I wouldn’t miss anything. (Joke!)

Next morning I check everyplace again up and down; I look at the rugs, I check all eight paws for I figure they may have fallen when I pulled the iPods out and the cats, who spend half their time on the desk yearning for treats, may have caught it in a paw and carried it outside never to be seen again. When Grace looses hers, which she does frequently, at least they know they are in the house somewhere. With cats tracking in and out, we never know. 

 I check my gym bag. I even look in every nook and cranny at the gym.

I’m afraid my luck has run out.

I thought finding things was my special gift. I have some incredible stories.

            While eating lunch, I look over at the desk one more time. I’ve already taken everything out twice.

Hmmmm. It can’t be. It’s always just been a piece of foil or a tie . . .

 Gnocchi's Whiskers

            Holy Moly. It is! The tiny evasive hearing aid transmitter* hanging onto the edge of the game box. . .fallen from the shelf above, as I surmised.

I am so happy. It’s not just the $3,000 or $4,000. It’s the time. The stress. The bother. How can such a little found thing bring so much joy to my soul?

That's not all.

DeRay found his lost credit card

under the car.

Of course, he had already cancelled it.

*It's called a "transmitter"
because it transmits the sound
from  my deaf side to my hearing side.