Tuesday, February 25, 2014
I'm not senile. I just don't remember things too well.
I spent a good bit of the last couple of days looking for a gun. I keep them around the house, in places where I tend to be. If somebody kicks down the door, I don't want to have to run to a gun safe and fiddle with buttons or a dial while the bad guy comes stalking down the stairs with a machete.
So I have guns in a lot of places. I know where they are, and I know what they are.
But last week, I noticed that the one by the television set downstairs was not there anymore.
I have a vague recollection of picking it up awhile back and doing something with it, but I can't remember what with any certainty.
This is not new for me. I once lost my Browning High Power and Jackass Leather Company rig for a month. Eventually it turned up on top of a bookcase. How it got there, or why it was there, is anybody's guess. I am sure I did it but I certainly don't know why.
This time, it's a long barrelled Ruger GP100.
It's just gone.
Here's what I sort of remember . I think I took it upstairs and put it on the table for my wife, when I was going out of the county and she was home and didn't want to go. Then when I came home, I put it "somewhere."
I have looked all over the house, the shop, the barn and the apartment. My wife says just forget about it and I'll find it eventually when I'm looking for something else. That's how it's been with every other thing I misplaced, like binoculars, the night vision device, other guns, my keys, my wallet, my glasses, my hat, my pipe, the tv remote, the cordless phone and other items that all have a special place. I am alright as long as I put everything back in it's "special place." If I don't, I'm in trouble.
I am trying to think of good things about getting old. First, you don't have to work. Second, you don't have to worry about finding a wife because you already have one.
That's the good part of getting old. Someday when I have several hours I'll write a post on the bad things about getting old.