It's about 10PM on Tuesday night. Decide that now would be a good time to block that baby blanket you finished weeks ago, because you're pretty sure the baby's due sometime soon. Like maybe September 1st.
Soak and wash blanket, press out excess water, and place on a flat sheet on the floor of your guest room. Think about your blocking wires; this project needs them. They must be in Yarnorium #1.
Check Yarn Scene #2. Nope: all Rowan Magpie in Ziploc baggies.
Think about how you remember exactly where you kept them in your previous residence. Great; now you are irritated at your old landlords all over again.
Deep cleansing breath. Cough a bit on the exhale: allergies.
Resign yourself to pinning out the blanket with no wires. This is okay, but Not As Good. And it is certainly not going to be good enough for when you block the Major Tom scarf.
Go to bed.
Lie awake thinking about what blocking wires would look like to moving men: a plastic cylindrical tube with a cap at both ends, and several thin wires inside. The cylinder resembles an empty container unless you shake it. Remember the housekeeper you had years ago who threw out all your plastic sewing bobbins, not realizing they were reusable. Remember the movers in Milwaukee who threw out an entire box full of cones of white thread. Remember the time you accidentally threw out a check for $500, mistaking it for a cancelled check. ( Yes -- long, long ago the bank would mail you back your cashed checks with your monthly statement. I'm not making this up.)
Instruct yourself to dream about where the blocking wires are.
Fall asleep and dream.
Wake up. You have no idea where your blocking wires are, but you now know the location of the special, expensive colored markers you used during your very brief foray into the startlingly unsatisfying world of rubber stamping. They are in the white metal file cabinet -- the one you and LB found out on someone's lawn awaiting garbage pick-up. The file cabinet is in the basement laundry room.... of the house you rented in the Oakland hills, circa 1997-1999.
Take Olive to school, and return home to the depressing business of ordering new blocking wires because your local yarn store does not carry them. The wires are not all that expensive but you are annoyed. Although they have a wonderful effect on the finished product, they are not an exciting purchase. You are nonplussed: as non-plussed as Dana was yesterday when you told him he must use some of his bike shop earnings to buy himself an alarm clock.
Give yourself a brief pat on the back for tough-love mothering. Perhaps if you'd had to buy your own alarm clock out of baby-sitting money as a teen, you wouldn't have been so cavalier about making sure your blocking wires made it to this house.
Now that you've ordered your new wires, go look in your Yarnoriums again: sometimes things reappear as soon as they've been replaced.
Not this time.