I Am a Lost Pillowcase

We have two sets of sheets. This always seemed like enough. One set on the bed, one set folded on the shelf, change them out every week, rinse repeat cha cha cha. There is beauty in banality. What could go wrong?

Then I lost one of the pillowcases to the dark grey set (the blue set is intact and resting comfortably, DON’T WORRY, thank you for the thoughts and prayers) and my entire world view shifted. Because we live in a 1200-square-foot apartment without any clutter. Because we’re both neat to the point of obnoxiousness and -with the exception of my collection of 80s toys and way too many pairs of various types of black boots- we just don’t hoard anything or even keep anything we don’t need. Because we don’t have kids who might borrow a pillowcase for a project. Because we don’t have a poltergeist. Because pillowcases just don’t go missing in this house.

So, where oh where would a lone pillowcase wander off to in our place? Did it float away during the eight foot walk from the laundry room to the linen cabinet? Did it fall into a non-existent crevice somewhere? Did it take the red pill and get unplugged from the sheet Matrix? DID IT CEASE TO EXIST?

Where in the world is my pillowcase???

The case of the missing pillowcase would normally amuse me. But it’s made me rather sad. The pillowcase being lost is making me feel lost. I wasn’t sure why and I wasn’t gonna mention it to anyone because, hey, that shit’s dark and weird and wack AF but here’s the thing: I think the missing pillowcase feels like 2017. The pillowcase should not have gotten lost. I did everything right. I stripped the bed, I washed the sheets, I folded the sheets, I put the sheets on the shelf. And then when I got ready to make the bed, I discovered that an integral part was missing. What is a set of sheets with only one pillowcase?

This year has felt like one long intense illness. You start feeling better and then -BAM- you get hit with a new cruel symptom. Oh your throat doesn’t hurt anymore, well, here, have some body aches! Something is always wrong. Something is always missing. And maybe it’s okay that all of the ugliness is getting forced out into the light to be dealt with. Probably it’s good in the long run. But real people are being hurt. I feel helpless and I know you do too. And even realizing that our generation might end up being collateral damage so that our kids and nieces and nephews can have a better future doesn’t help as much as it should. The hurt and emptiness just isn’t going away. There is evil in the world. Here it is. Right in your face, look at it LOOK AT IT. DON’T LOOK AWAY EVEN FOR A MINUTE. And it’s exhausting and it’s sad and it’s too too much but it’s what we have and we have to fix it.

And I really need to find that fucking pillowcase.



4 thoughts on “I Am a Lost Pillowcase

  1. Check where you put other things. I once lost one of my favorite socks. I found it a few days later in the underwear drawer. Apparently it was under the stack and I put them away without noticing. If all else fails look for poltergeist!!

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