a lost stapler

I can’t find my favorite stapler.  And it never leaves my bedroom.

I search everywhere.  Under the bed.  In my desk drawers. In my night table drawers. In my armoire.  On all surfaces. In my wastebasket.  Behind my desk.  It’s nowhere.

Frustrated, I enlist the help of Alexander.  He reluctantly leaves the living room (not wanting to give up his 10^th viewing of The Dark Knight), comes into my room, does a cursory look around, and walks out.  I call out to him from my bedroom, “Hey, comeback here.  Please help me find my stapler.”

From the other room, Alexander calmly yells out, “Look!  It’s there.”

“Whadda ya mean, it’s there? Did you actually see it?”

“Just keep looking.”

“Well, did you see it or not?”

“I’m sure it’s there.”

“Did you actually see it here or are you just saying that because it should be here?”

“It’s there.”

My back is toward Alexander as he enters my room.  I am re-searching all the same places I’ve just looked, getting more and more frustrated.

“Okay, I’ve looked everywhere.  WHERE IS IT?” I say this as I’m stooped over my wastebasket, again going through its contents.

“It’s around.”

“Well, am I close?” I can't believe I am know engaged in this stupid game.

"Yup."

I keep looking.  My impatience is growing along with my frustration.  Finally, I lose it.  “WHERE THE F*CK'S MY STAPLER?” I scream.

I turn around and Alexander is filming the whole thing.  Just my words though.  His camera stays focused on the stapler, sitting on the shelf above my desk.

He tells me that he wishes he’d had this video for his film class this year. 

One of the students in his class had done a video on her disabled sister called Meet Sara — a heartwarming piece about the day in the life of a physically challenged girl.  Alexander regrets that he didn’t have his little video, so he could have next stood up and said, “And I did a little video on my mom called Meet Lyn.  And there I’d be, screaming wildly, “WHERE THE F*CK’S MY STAPLER?”

I’m grateful the semester is over.