If my head wasn't attached, I'd lose it too

We are a military family. We move around. A lot.

I would like to think that having moved so many times, experience would make me a better mover.

This, however, is not the case.

Do you remember that song, "Where have all the cowboys gone?" by Paula Cole?

Where is my Jon Wayne?
Where is my prairie son?
Where is my happy ending?
Where have all the cowboys gone?
Where is my marlboro man?
Where is his shiny gun?
Where is my lonely ranger?
Where have all the cowboys gone?

I have some new lyrics that run through my head daily.

Where are all my pens?
Where is that vase I bought before the move?
Where is my address book?
Where are those shot records?
Where is my sanity?

I am a self proclaimed neat freak. I cannot stand clutter. I like organization because I do not want to spend the 15 minutes of free time I have daily looking for something that could be easily found if put in its proper place.

But when we move, nothing has a place anymore. At least not yet. And until I can locate my stuff to put it in its place, I am lost.

Everything is unpacked.

I'm just not sure where I put it.