You May Now Address Me as "Madame Bleu, the All-Seeing"

When I was visiting my grandparents a few days ago (my dad's parents), I noticed my grandma had set out a doll my dad had bought her in Russia for Christmas several years ago. "Wow," I said, patting the doll's brightly colored dress and running my fingers along her hand-painted cloth face, "I should dig out MyGirl's Russian doll--she is all dressed in red and green and would look very Christmas-y under the tree."

Mygirl screwed her eyebrows down. "I have a Russian doll?" she asked.

"Sure you do," I said. "I just boxed up all your dolls awhile back when we redecorated your room. I'll find them for you--" I paused, feeling that familiar sense of panic that begins to nibble on the corners of my sternum when I realize I have absolutely NO IDEA where something is. I am the world's worst at squirreling things away, confident at the time that I will remember where I have hidden them, and then promptly forgetting, usually forever. When I die, my kids will be continually finding treasures secreted in the oddest places--"Why is there a set of car keys in the freezer?" they will ask, and then they will answer themselves with a roll of the eyes and a "Oh, you know Mom." I do contend that I come by it honestly--my own mother has an infuriating habit of hiding all her most important papers in the thousands of Country Living magazines that she has collected since 1975.

I went home and forgot that I intended to look for MyGirl's dolls, because I truly had not a clue where to begin searching for her. (Can we say "avoidance tactics," children?) Completely scrubbed it out of my mind . . . until today.

When I put myself down for my three-thirty-on-the-dot nap (if I don't get a nap around that time, I am like the world's crankiest toddler), I actually dreamed that the doll was in a grey tub in the side attic. (We have two attics--one big one and one side one, under the eaves of the addition. I rarely put things in that attic because it is small and awkward to dig around in.) I saw my dream-self opening the door, reaching in, and pulling the tub out. The doll was sitting inside. I woke up and started downstairs. I passed the door to the side attic and remembered the dream. I thought, "What the heck" and opened the door. Inside, at an easy-to-reach distance was a grey tub. I pulled it out and lifted the lid. There was the Russian doll, pretty as you please, waiting for me. I imagine she was thinking something like "Vhat in the vhorld took you so long, voman? I've been languishing in zat attic for AGES. Get me some vodka, qvick."

I admit it--when I found her, I kind of freaked myself out a little. I mean, I watch Spiderman--I know that with great power comes great responsibility, and frankly, I'm just too lazy to be a superhero. If it can't be helped, I suppose the next step will be to get a crystal ball, a headkerchief, and some gaudy bangles--but for my particular brand of clairvoyance, I will need a comfy cot, too. I can be called "Nappy Knows-It" or something like that.

Let's see--where DID I put those car keys? And why do I suddenly feel so darn sleepy?

Yawn.