1.) In grade school, I had many brightly-colored socks (think late 80s neon) and would frequently misplace just one. I really didn't want to wear mismatched socks, so the lone neon sock would float on its own. Eventually I would dream about finding its mate , usually in the sock drawer under other socks, and in the morning I'd search in said place.
2.) We need to find our copy of our lease. Today. Well maybe tomorrow would be acceptable. But our landlord, who is really a great guy, wants/needs to raise rent by $90 a month, and the lease doesn't allow that, and he knows that, but he wants us to agree to it anyway. And he offered us an empty third-floor apartment, in light of my mold issues. I can already guess we'll say no to moving upstairs -- moving things up stairs is awful, and our cat Hobbes (the elder statesman cat who is responsible enough to be outside) would kill us if he couldn't go out and in and out all the time. And we would have no patio/pit thing for yakiniku, which would make Noah very sad. So we're not moving upstairs, I think.
But the lease has been lost. And this is very bad.
How do you find something you've lost? If you knew where it was, or had a good idea, it would no longer be lost. You wouldn't be looking, even. You'd have it already.
The problem is, we don't lose that many important papers anymore because we are generally careful in our old age about these things. We have a fire safe, we have a shredder, we have an emergency kit, and that emergency kit includes Chef Boyardee and cat food and some water. We aren't so willy-nilly.
I'm guessing, though, that I put it somewhere "really smart." That it was me, not Noah. He puts things in two places; I put them several places. And the lease isn't in either of his places.
Think of us, St. Jude. Isn't there another saint of lost things in general? You think of us too.