I'm talking about the kind of things that aren't really lost, just misplaced? Or so you think.

This morning, my curling iron's heating element gave up the ghost. Now, usually this would be no big deal, but I had errands to run this morning and I had just blow-dryed my hair. Having recently changed my hair style, leaving the house in this condition was not optimal. I had no doubt I would traumatize small children upon sight and put them into therapy for years. I looked like an escapee from one of those hair commercials they show on TV with the before and after shots. That's me - the before shot - times 10!

I use a certain kind of curling iron and the last time one died, I spent a good amount of time and suffering trying to track the model down. Desperately, I searched and at the last store, finally found it. After going through this agony, I decided to be clever and purchase two! My thinking was simply that I'd be ahead of those sneaky manufacturers that quit making a perfectly good product because, well, because it's a perfectly good product.

So I went looking for my new curling iron…and could not find it. Anywhere. What I did find disturbed me even more––several old curling irons that looked like they went through the war known as “The BIG Hair Years.” I mean really, they had enough hair spray caked on the handles and heating tubes as to look like they had been spray painted a light grey! Yuck! Double Yuck! The bigger question now is why do I have these hair-spray-caked-curling-irons at all????

I have to believe that the “it's best to be prepared for any and all circumstances” part of my brain is responsible for the three, yes, three hair-spray-caked-curling-irons to be living in my bathroom cabinet. Jeeze, like there's going to be an apocalypse of hair curling implements in the near future and I'll never ever be able to find/purchase/afford another curling iron in this lifetime????!! Could this possibly be for real? Do they even work?

It is these small glimpses into my mind and how it works that scare the absolute daylights out of me. I like to think I'm fairly practical. That I use common sense in most situations, and yet, here is proof positive that I may not be so levelheaded as I like to think. Really. I'm hoarding15-year-old (maybe older) hair-spray-caked-curling-irons??? Why not gold or food or medicine or something of relative value other than an instrument that plays to my vanity?

And what's worse yet is that I still have no idea where the new curling iron is……