Pillowcase

I lost a pillowcase.
For real.
I.Lost.A.Pillowcase.

But not just any pillowcase! No. I lost a Pottery Barn Spider Man twin, white pillowcase. That isn't made anymore. And that I paid retail for. RETAIL.

I never loose things.
Seriously.
I have never lost a sock in the dryer. No, really, I haven't.
I have never lost a pair of underwear or any other item of clothing.
And I'm really not trying to sound like I'm better than everyone else. That's far, very far from the truth. It's just when it comes to keeping up with things...I'm your gal. I can remember where everything is in the house. Well, let me rephrase: I can remember where everything is that I have seen. If it's something that Stuart brings in and never shows me, I couldn't tell you where it is. So I guess I don't know where every single cotton pickin' thing is, but you get the point. I take pride in the fact that I don't loose things. I love remembering where things used to be in our previous homes. My memory is uncanny like that (too bad that memory function doesn't pass thru to all things, like say, school.)
But somehow I have lost a pillowcase.

You don't understand how ridiculously big of a deal this is.
I don't loose things. And somehow a pillowcase has walked out of my life and it is driving me crazy.
I have torn apart the linen closet. No pillowcase.
I have torn apart the boys' rooms. No pillowcase.
I have torn apart my room. No pillowcase.
I have climbed over the washer and dryer. No pillowcase.
I have even looked thru luggage. No pillowcase.

No stinkin' pillowcase.

The worst part of this ordeal?
I now have to say that I lost something. Bummer.