My favorite necklace. It’s from my aunt and it’s two disks with my initials on a delicate silver chain. I may or may not have had a nightmare about it the other night in which my sister tried to replace it with this gaudy charm necklace thing and it was so wrong.
My dignity. Embarrassingly, I got pulled over for driving down the Taconic Parkway in my big ol’ Budget truck. I really thought the officer would take one look at this moron driving a moving van by herself and have pity. Alas I could not save myself from a ticket or his judgment.
Jack’s birthday present. It was this indestructible red rubber ball that holds little bits food. It keeps him occupied for hours so I can actually unpack without a wet dog nose investigating every damn box.
A $1 bag of dried black beans. I was really looking forward to a cheap meal.
Half of my cereal bowls.
Rags. You know, for cleaning a disgusting apartment that was apparently inhabited by monkeys before The Roommate and I moved in.
My iPod charger. How’s that for annoying?
One slipper. How is that for REALLY annoying?
Not lost, but not quite right:
My knee, which has been suspiciously swollen for days since we moved into our fifth floor walk up. I cannot bend it all the way back to stretch my quad. AARP will be calling me any day now.
My underwear (almost!). I paid the laundromat a huge visit the day before moving and washed every pair of my underwear besides the ones on my bum on that day. I put them all in one clean bag and then promptly lost that bag for a spell. It was incredibly traumatizing. Next time I will set some aside in a sort of panty insurance policy.
The little handle of my Anthropologie salt and pepper shaker set. It used to be you could carry them from counter to table and impress your friends with your $55 salt and pepper shakers. Now I have to have to hold them in my hands like a commoner. Anthropologie would be mortified.