Late last Wednesday (8 days ago now) I realized that I didn't know where my backpack was. Nothing supervaluable in it, but still a royal pain. As I started mentally retracing my steps, it turned out that I hadn't knowingly seen it since dropping C off for Tae Kwan Do monday evening (and hadn't been out on tuesday). So thursday I went to all the places I might have been and asked around, but nothing. When J took C to Tae Kwan Do on thursday evening, also nothing. So I resigned myself to getting a new pack and started hunting around at the local sports store and online.
Saturday we did kindermusik and farmers market and so forth, and I got ready to make a pilgrimage to the Box Store District in the afternoon, but before I left I checked our phone messages, and there was one dated friday afternoon from one of the lunch ladies at C's school saying that her husband (who teaches the TKD class) had found a left backpack, and she had looked in it and found my name, and was going to leave it in the school's main office.
I was disappointed. I had had my brain set on the shopping trip, and looking at a bunch of packs and picking one (although my odds-on favorite was the one I already had). And of course the school office was closed, so I couldn't get the pack till monday morning anyway. But it felt sorta strange to be even a little bit sad that something I had thought lost was instead found.
At least it came back before I got a new one...