The iPod nano went missing a few days ago. I noticed its ear buds were attached to Pete's laptop, meaning one of my younger children had detached them from the nano and inserted them into the laptop to listen to their usual crap. I had my suspicions, of course: it could only be Youngest. And Youngest was quick to own up to it. He had found the nano on the dining room table, taken the ear buds out, and then listened to Def Leppard or his band du jour on the laptop.
Only the nano wasn't on the dining room table. I did a cursory look for it at the time. And then I did a more thorough look for it the next day. Nothing. I said to Pete that I was going to have to go through the trash because that was the only logical place it could be. Pete said I was crazy -- something he often says I am for reasons unknown to me or any casual observer -- and that it would turn up on its own.
Last night, I made everyone stop what they were doing and look for the damn thing. Having already lost my video iPod to a senseless dog sitter and her thug friends earlier this year, I was not going to take the disappearance of the nano lying down. It was nowhere to be found.
You know where this is going, yes? Crazy lady that I am, I went outside at 8 o'clock to dig into the trash. I figured I'd do the trash and then the recycling. How stupid would that have been, right? Instead, I went through the "clean" recycling first. Yeah, it was there. My little nano, all loaded up with my Springsteen songs, along with the boy's Def Leppard, Bon Jovi and Oasis, scooped up with the newspapers and yogurt containers and the like.
I want to blame Youngest, but I'm sure it was me who actually tossed it into the recycling. He probably set it on top of a portion of the newspaper I was finished with, and then I stacked the rest on top, and off it went. "Crazy?" I don't think so. "Neurotic?" Yeah, always.