Last night as I sat in my seat in Merkin Hall, trying not to laugh at the husband's 20 minute attempt to open a bag of snacks without making a crinkling sound, I noticed that my left earring was missing. Again. At intermission I did what every woman knows doesn't work - retraced my steps. And then, miracle of miracles in the history of lost earrings, I found it on the floor in a doorway in the lobby. Beaming, I returned to my seat, opened the second bag of snacks, and enjoyed the sixtet of Brahms while dreaming of all the shameful lost earrings never found, but mine.
By the time I got to my front door the earring was lost again. It was a wrinkle in time, but alas, lost earrings are always lost and never truly found.