Like most people, I have a problem with nonsense. Usually the bigger issues, like the current political circus, bother me, but last week, the problem was more personal. And in order to reveal to you how important an issue this particular one was to me, I have to give you a little background.
I grew up in an era when babies were coddled with itchy wool, many old ladies wrapped their couches in plastic, and by the time I reached my 20s, clothing materials were so stiff and unyielding, you could bend your arm and almost hear the fabric crack. So comfort is ultra important to me. When Meier came out with some of the softest blankets I’d ever felt, I grabbed 3 of them – because what if more than one grandchild came over and wanted me to share one?
Then last week, one of my new luxuriously soft blankets disappeared. I called my daughter to ask if she borrowed it. No. Why would she? She has hundreds of them. But I had to ask, because she might have needed one for the car, and I was grasping at something – anything – to explain the disappearance of one of the softest blankets on the planet.
So my search continued. I searched under the couch, behind the couch, inside the plastic bins that held all my stuffed animals, in the closet, and even in my bedrooms, though the blankets never leave the living room, except to be washed. I even checked the kitchen where my laundry facilities are located because maybe I forgot that I decided to wash only one of those three blankets, which sensibly would never happen, because I wash all three of them at the same time, but whatever.
It was nowhere.
And that’s when my brain scrambled. How could it just disappear? The only possible explanation, I decided, was that somebody had entered my home the day I took my granddaughter to the park and left my door unlocked. The thief stole, not my television, my antique table, my furniture, or my CDs or DVDs, but only that one blanket. I have to admit, the blanket really is that inviting, but to have the audacity to open my door, see the blanket, feel the blanket, and find it so irresistible, the perpetrator had to have it – well, that was unconscionable! I decided never again to trust my neighbors.
Who gives himself permission to enter somebody’s home and steal a blanket? I had two other blankets, though – why should I care about this one? I couldn’t reason with myself, and I spent hours awake at night trying to explain the disappearance of this one blanket. When something doesn’t make sense to me, my brain won’t allow me to settle down until I settle the matter.
So I got out of bed and looked again, as if it would magically appear in a place I already looked (those types of things have happened before), but this time, it was still – nowhere.
I tried to forget about it, but my mind kept returning to the question, how could a blanket just disappear? Even somebody breaking into my home to steal a blanket didn’t make sense to me. Admittedly, I was giving way too much thought to this problem, but I wanted my blanket back! I wanted an explanation! If I ever wanted to sleep again, I had to stop focusing my attention on the missing blanket, though.
After several hours of lost sleep, I decided the missing blanket was a test sent to me by God to reveal my thought processes. I’m reading Dr. Wayne Dyer’s books and in them he talks about how, when we think of lack, more lack appears – wait, let me try again – what we think about is what appears in our life. So if I think of a missing blanket, more blankets might disappear! I’m sure that’s what he meant! I needed to start thinking about an avalanche of blankets. I needed to focus on abundance, wealth, positivism, joy, and happy thoughts. So I envisioned myself wrapped in sensuously soft, velvety luxuriousness. Finally I could sleep.
The other day my daughter dropped off my granddaughter on her way to work and, as usual, we played with my collection of stuffed animals. My granddaughter emptied one of the bins and found at the bottom of all the stuffed animals, my blanket, something that wouldn’t have shown beneath all my stuffed animals when I looked into the bin. Oh, yeah, I remember now! Avery had put the blanket at the bottom the last time we played so our stuffed animals would be comfortable, and she forgot to remove it when she put away the bin.
OK, so maybe finding the blanket at the bottom of my bin makes more sense than a stranger entering my home and stealing my luxuries. Dr. Dyer, wherever you are, thank you for your words of wisdom! And, to make sure nothing like this ever happens again, I’m locking my door from now on – every time I leave my house – my insurance policy to prevent anybody from entering my home to steal another blanket – or my pillow.