Last night I had an idea-with-a-capital-I right before I went to sleep. It had to do with what I was planning to blog about today, and it was so interesting that I didn’t think there was any possible way for me to forget it overnight.
Regular ideas are easily forgotten, but Ideas usually lodge themselves firmly into my brain.
Can you guess what I woke up missing this morning?
I’d tell you about the colourful monologue that ricocheted through my thoughts as soon as I realized what happened, but sometimes my nephew reads this blog. He’s not old enough for those words yet. 😉
While I was attempting to clear my mind and woo that idea back, I thought about lost socks. Growing up I was puzzled by all of the jokes about where socks go when they disappear from the washer or dryer.
I couldn’t remember ever losing one of them. If I had, I would have blamed static cling or assumed that they had been sucked into a part of the washer or dryer that doesn’t normally hold these kinds of things. Maybe the inside of the machine was damaged in a way that allowed small articles of clothing to get caught in it.
Ideas are much easier to misplace. They can’t be found again by texting my brother to ask him if the doohickey is supposed to be wedged so tightly against the whatchamacallit. There isn’t a wrench or screwdriver in the world that can pry a forgotten thought from the shadowy recesses of your mind.
I’d like to think that they’re still in there somewhere though. When I imagine combing through my memories, it always happens in a large, bright, and slightly dusty room. It’s filled from floor to ceiling with those old-fashioned card catalogues that libraries used to display. The wood is freshly-oiled and almost seems to glow.
Every remembered idea is typed neatly onto one of those little cards, but none of the drawers that hold them are labelled. All you can do is open one of them and see what memories are stirred up when you read it.
Finding the lost ideas, though, requires pulling out a wide section of those drawers and peering into the darkness to see if there’s anything scuttling back there.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.
Where do your lost ideas go?