The problem with passports, end of a trilogy

Have you ever seen "Along Came Polly"? Horrible movie, but there's a certain truth to the lead female character. She likes to dance, she likes spicy food, she's willing to give up extraneous comforts to live a simple, vibrant life. But the woman is a complete mess. She can't keep track of anything; don't EVER ask her to manage a practical task like finding her keys.

That's a lot like me. Tonight was the quintessential example. I was ready to go to bed around 11 p.m. It's spring break, and I'm still recovering from too many sleepless nights with my first appellate brief. Sleep is the most delicious thing in the world, right now.

Only problem is, I couldn't find the remote control for my overhead lights. The switch on my wall only controls a small table lamp. There's only one way to control the Hampton Bay lighted ceiling fan in my bedroom, and that is with the remote. Usually I keep it in bed with me so I can finish typing or studying, then just hit the switch and pass out. So today when the remote wasn't in my bed, I was mildly annoyed. What could I possibly have done with it?

I had just changed the sheets on my bed that afternoon, so I thought maybe the remote had fallen under the mattress. Nope. I stripped the bed, too, to see if I'd covered it over. No way. Checked under my desk, folded all the clean laundry on my computer chair, sorted all the dirty laundry on the floor (writing a paper means my life is a mess for a while), still no remote. By this point, I feel like I'm crawling beneath a desert sun. The light won't go off, and all I want is sleep!

So I sort a bunch of stray paperwork, take out the trash, clear the dishes in the bedroom ... it's a stretch to think the remote might be under my dinner plate, but you never know. I even move the bookshelf and my dresser drawers. No luck. I check Ozzie's dog bed. Lord knows my beagle has done odd things before. There was that one day I found my glasses under his pillow. He had chewed off the plastic earpieces and "buried" it for future playtime. But on this particular occasion, the munchkinhead was totally innocent. No light switch in his bed.

By 1:30 a.m. I have become completely desperate and loopy. I start going through old boxes of paperwork, including boxes I haven't opened since I lived in Center City more than two years ago. And naturally the remote control wasn't there -- it was sitting on my desk in plain sight, but you know what?

I found my passport.