Lost and Found

Small miracles;

Small things.

Easily lost.

Snagged onto something?

Thrown out with newspaper?

Drats.

$3,000.

I didn’t turn on the light

When I put them in the cabinet

I promised myself I would always put them in

No matter what.

I hadn’t worn them that evening because the

batteries were dead.

The batteries are always dead.

I used DeRay’s TV ears.

I set them on the arm of the couch next to me

and take them to the desk when I leave for bed.

A few days later,

When I went to get them,

Only one was there.

Where is the other one?

I take everything out of the shelves;

I search the desk in case it had fallen;

I look through the drawers.

I get down on the floor and feel underneath.

I go to the couch and search around and under.

I search the pockets of my pants and jacket

In case they had snagged on my iPod ear buds.

I search my purse.

I bring the garbage can in and dump everything out.

Drats.

One last time, I get down on the floor to look under the couch.

DeRay hands me a flashlight and lifts the couch.

Relief.

Elation!

Joy!

Even though I hate them.

Hearing Aids are too small, too quiet, too expensive.

Can’t they light up or ring or talk?

Small miracles;

Small things.

Small Miracles for Christmas

When the microwave flashed and crashed,

the little miracles materialized.
1. It died while it was still under extended warranty; not two days later as per usual.

2. DeRay rarely buys extended warranties but he did this time. (Six big bucks.)

3. He actually found the warranty in the files.

4. They emailed the money enabling him to run right down to Wal*Mart to get a new one so Amy’s early morning routine would not be disrupted.

This part isn’t a miracle but sagacious:

Instead of waiting three weeks for some masculine specimen to take the old microwave out as promised, the female cuts the electrical cord off and hauls it out to the garbage herself before Amy gets home and fills the garage with her car. (The garbage can is full for the week with a microwave and dysfunctional oxygen machine, which the adroit female also dumped without waiting for said male to initiate a plan of action--like find the hand truck, roll it out; tip the garbage can on its side; push it in; stand the garbage can upright. In his defense, he did have a bit of surgery on Wednesday to remove cancer on his face--11 stitches.)