I really, really hate losing things and sometimes losing a small, unimportant and trivial object can throw me into behavior that is close to obsessive-compulsive. And not like colloquially obsessive-compulsive, like I am seriously doing irrational things that I don't want to do because the missing thing bothers me so much.
Today I couldn't find my sunglasses. I looked around for the pockets that they go into, and for the usually places around the house, like windowsills, that they end up. When I couldn't find them there, I spent another...hour or so... opening and closing drawers, sometimes half a dozen times, seeing if I had put them somewhere. I then went to the grocery store and looked in their lost and found. I then took my bike on the route of a walk I took two days ago, seeing if I dropped them by the side of the road. Nothing.
I am still flustered about this. These are one dollar sunglasses that I have had for a month, and that have no special value for me. And yet, I just feel wrong when I reach in my pockets and they aren't there.
I think part of it is that I like to think that I am the same person day in and day out. But something as small as missing sunglasses reminds me that I am not. Matthew of three days ago had these sunglasses, Matthew of right now does not. However small of a wedge it is, it is something that separates my timestream into a before and after.