A Hiding Place of My Own


I have written multiple times about how J must have a hiding place.  I can’t wait to find it some day, and perhaps reclaim my pot top, tongs, cruet and favorite pen.

And then it hit me:  I have hiding places, too!  I keep my rain jacket in an upstairs closet so she doesn’t commandeer it.  I hide my hairbrush in the bathroom closet.  I hide my toothbrush so she doesn’t use it.

Years ago at this point, I bought J two large towels with her name embroidered on them.  I thought it would be easy for her to discern which towels were hers and she would no longer take mine from my towel rack.  Wrong.  So I started keeping my towel on a hook in a closet.  J still uses a different towel every time she takes a shower (pausing for a moment of gratitude that she can still shower without assistance). The towels she uses are never the ones with her name on them.  So now I am going to hide all the towels I use in a different closet.

My, the strategies I use so I won’t get annoyed when my stuff disappears.  Once I realized that we have dueling hiding places, all I could do was laugh.  Which, of course, is much better than crying.

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