Realities of Aging

Some years ago on some gift-giving occasion, I requested that Mr. Fixit give me a ladder. I explained that I didn’t want a step ladder like his. I needed a ladder to hang curtains, to look for things on the high shelves, and to paint. Since I have this fear of heights, his ladder is too high and the treads are too narrow. I found the perfect one. It has three wide treads, a paint tray, and the legs spread wide to give me a feeling of stability. It also has a thing to hold on to giving me a little more confidence. Best of all, the ladder is mine, all mine. Of course, I let him use it when necessary, like trimming the Christmas tree. Nice of me, don’t you think? The ladder usually makes its home in my clothes closet. Okay, sometimes I leave it in the upstairs hall leaning against the bookshelves or stationed in the computer room/craft room/junk room.


A few days ago I wanted to hang some curtains, but when I looked for the ladder, it was nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere--the garage, the storage room, the storage room annex (the downstairs bathroom), the my closet where it usually resides. I even used a thinly veiled accusation against Mr. Fixit. “Have you seen my ladder?” He said, “No, but I’ll help you look.” Hmmm, was that a little too co-operative in an attempt to appear innocent? He spent a bit of time checking all the places I had already looked. He couldn't find it either. That's really no surprise; he can never find anything he's looking for. He's just not a good looker-for.

My only thought was, how can anyone lose a ladder? The last thing I remembered about the ladder was moving it from the upstairs hall to put it away. I couldn’t put it back in the closet, because my handbag collection has grown, and it is a small closet. But where I put the ladder was a complete blank.

I was afraid my ladder would become another cell phone charger. I hadn’t been able to find it for weeks. I remembered that I was going to put it away, but I couldn’t remember where I put it. (Incidentally, I found it a few days ago by happenstance in my laptop case.)

Yesterday when I was busy doing something having nothing to do with a ladder, it suddenly popped into my mind where I had stashed it. I leave the door to my closet open because sometimes Little Girl like to take a private snooze in there. There, behind the open door, was my ladder. I took care of the curtain and now the ladder is residing in its new home--behind the closet door. And I'm a little embarrassed that I even entertained the thought that Mr. Fixit had put my ladder away where it didn't belong. Of course, I didn't admit making that thinly veiled accusation. I wonder if he noticed that it was accusatory.

Aging means spending about 50 percent of my time looking for things I have put away.