At 11:15 on Friday night, I found my jodimitts.
No, they weren't returned to me by a repentant mitt thief. They weren't lying in an obscure corner of the church parking lot. In fact, they weren't anywhere they shouldn't have been.
They were sitting on my desk. In full view.
Um. It was one of those weeks. That's all I can say. Clearly the submissions fiasco, coupled with a difficult personal issue, made bits of my eyes leak out of my skull. Or something.
So I was plugging Beatrice in for the night. The kitchen was dark, and I saw what appeared to be a jodimitt lying on my desk. Excellent sleuth that I am, I stood there for about six seconds staring at it in the dark, wondering if it could possibly be a jodimitt, or if my eyes were playing a cruel trick. Then it occurred to me that I could turn on my desk light and get a quick answer.
Yes. Jodimitt. And the other one was hidden beneath a bit of Desk Junk. I scooped them up and squealed and pressed them to my cheeks.
"I found my jodimitts!" I said to Mr. A, who had entered the kitchen during my little jodimitt dance. Sweet husband that he is, he squooshed me into his arms and told me how happy he was I'd found them.
Well, that was after he asked me where. And shook his head in a too-familiar Yet Another Dumb Moment In My Wife's Life way. Unconditional love is a grand thing.
I wore them to bed. Yes, I did. It was a good way to work through the trauma of having been separated from them for three days.
Probably the rest of your donations through the holiday season should be marked THERAPY FOR AUTHORESS.