“I need,” I tell my sister, Bethany, “a better method of record keeping.”
She does not deign to reply to this, probably because I am currently pulling letters out of my underwear drawer.
I emerge half-triumphant with half of what I’m looking for. “I’ve got the lease from my storage unit from this past spring!”
Then, frowning, I reach into my box of shoes. “What is this? A parking citation? When did I get a parking citation?!”
Bethany: “Last January.”
Me: “I have no memory of this.”
Bethany: “You were very angry about it.”
Me: “…nope, got nothing.”
I turn to my bookshelf. “Oh look! Here is my research paper from high school. What dramatic language I used! This would make a good blog post.”
Right next to it I find my pay stub from last week.
Bethany’s eyes remained glued to her phone so I am basically monologuing at this point.
I dive under my bed. “Oh! I have a dentist appointment coming up. Good to know. And here is a copy of my transcripts from college.”
I begin flipping through my assorted coloring books. “I canceled the lease in July. So difficult to know what I would have done with a piece of paper then. It was a transitional period. Is it too optimistic to think I would have taken a picture of it? I don’t even know what phone I had? Where IS my phone?”
I found a missing bookmark, missing statute pack, loads of hand-written letters from Tori, and two more parking citations. (Alas, those I remembered.)
But no document proving I ended my lease in July.
And those jerks have started billing me again.
Arg. I need a better record keeping system.