Great Moments in Perimenopause, Part 3

 

Those of you with good attention to detail will have noticed that I seemed to have skipped Part 2… For the record, I did not skip it. I simply forgot what I was going to say. But I’m sure I had an idea and I’m sure it will come back to me. Someday.

Tonight I lost half of a tangerine. At least, I think I lost it. It’s possible I actually ate it. There I sat, at my desk in my office, working away on some project or another and eating a really quite tasty tangerine. I peeled it, threw the peel in the trash next to my desk. I removed some stray bits of pith, threw them in the trash as well. I ate several sections, spitting one seed onto my lap in the process. That also went into the trash. I remember all of that, very clearly. It was a very good tangerine – plump and juicy and bursting with flavor, rather like a Starburst only much, much better – good, and so good for you!

Where, oh where, did it go?
Where, oh where, did it go?

And then suddenly I couldn’t find the rest of my tangerine. I hadn’t left my office, so it’s not as if I carried it somewhere and left it. Nobody had come to visit, so I knew none of my coworkers had swiped it, nor had I given it away. Where then was the rest of my tangerine? I checked the garbage first, assuming (mistakenly) that I’d inadvertently tossed it there with the peel and pith and seeds. No tangerine. I got on my hands and knees and crawled around on the floor, cheek scraping the carpet as I peered under various pieces of computer equipment, office furniture and shelves. No tangerine. I mean, where could it have gone? Tangerines don’t fly, they don’t jump off desks like lemmings off a cliff… It should have been just, well, sitting there, on my desk. But it wasn’t. And I never found the damn thing. I kept looking for it off and on for the next four hours, and I never found it. I guess I ate it. I don’t remember eating it, but I really can’t come up with any alternative to where the missing segments went. They must – they simply must – be in my stomach.

If this story sounds strikingly familiar… well, it is. And it drives me nuts.

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