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Lost and Found

Thursday, June 19, 2014 in Blog > Thursday Thoughts

Q: Why is something you’ve lost always in the last place you look for it?

A: Because after you find it, you stop looking.

It’s an old joke, I know, but sometimes we do have to search long and hard to find misplaced items. Although I am a very organized person, I still occasionally manage to stow away a few valuable (and not-so-valuable) items so safely that even I cannot find them.

A few weeks ago, I applied for a job working on the provincial election. Because I had previous experience, I was promptly accepted and asked to come in for training. “Bring a pen, some paper, and your SIN (Social Insurance Number) card,” advised the caller.

cardThe only time people need to provide their SIN is when they will be receiving income that must be reported to the government. So there is no need to carry a SIN card. In fact, most organizations will accept a SIN verbally. But hey, he asked, so I checked the envelope in my strongbox where I store rarely used IDs.

It wasn’t there. Well, perhaps I had put it with my passport in the little basket where I keep important ID handy. No, but my birth certificate was there. I’d forgotten about it, so I made a mental note and kept looking for the elusive SIN card. How about my safe, where seven years’ worth of tax returns reside? Nope. Hmm… perhaps the pouch where I keep baptismal and marriage certificates? Not there, either. And now I realized that I hadn’t seen my citizenship card anywhere, either.

By this point, my husband had joined me in my quest. He helpfully suggested places I had already investigated. (Great minds really do think alike.) He reasoned that it should be where his own card was. Umm… Okay, now we were looking for two SIN cards and a citizenship card.

I checked the bins above the dresser. Ooh! The map container! Hubby had cleared his desk the previous day, but we couldn’t remember where to put the map he had come across. I filed it and started looking in my desk, where I immediately noticed a package of ‘377’ button batteries. Say, wasn’t that the size I needed for the little clock that had just died? It sure was. I crossed “batteries” off my shopping list. Hubby fixed the clock while I… had a flash of insight. I pulled out my emergency backpack, and there inside were my SIN card and my citizenship card.

But not Hubby’s SIN card. That, of course, will be in the last place we look.


 
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