Goldfish

“Have you seen my phone?” Stick asked me as we were getting ready to leave this morning. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

“No.” I said. We looked around the apartment, while Stick mumbled incoherently about having it just a moment ago. “I’ll call your phone so you can find it.” I dialed Stick from my cellphone and we listened to the sound of his phone ringing from inside his pocket.

Yes, he was unable to find his phone while it was on his person. The next time he asks where his shoes / phone / keys are, I’m going to frisk him to make sure he’s not carrying them.

Sometimes Stick has the short-term memory of a goldfish. I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s wonderful to live with someone who forgets what we’ve bought on the way home from the grocery store, and is completely thrilled at the ice cream that’s appeared magically in our freezer.  Stick will re-notice a tidied room each time he comes in. But losing something he was actually holding? Might be a record even for Stick.

About two minutes after I dropped Stick at work, my phone rang. It was Stick.

“Hey, I have a missed call from you.” he said.

“This just isn’t your day, is it?”