WHO MOVED MY STAPLER?

Gotta great idea for a book.

Patterned after that motivational bestseller, "Who Moved My Cheese?" by Spencer Johnson.

Perhaps you've read WMMC. All about learning how to deal with change at work and in life.  A parable involving two mice (Sniff and Scurry) and two little people (Hem and Haw) and how they make it through a maze (their environment) to find the cheese (happiness and success).

Well, my book would be titled, "Who Moved My Stapler?" All about dealing with "The Change" (menopause) while at work or at home. An entertaining account of one woman (Frazzled) and how she barely makes it through a hormonally imbalanced daze (her life), struggling to remember where she puts something (everything).

Based on a true story.

My story.

Frazzled

Yes, I am Frazzled.

And I swear I remember filling my stapler Friday morning, and then setting it aside right next to my phone on my desk. Next, I ran downstairs to use the copy machine, and when I returned to my desk and went to grab the stapler, it was gone. The blue plastic container of staples was there. But no stapler.

Disappeared into thin air. Nowhere to be found.

I searched my desk drawer by drawer. Checked the wastebasket. Left no Post-It Note unturned.

Even rifled through my purse and rummaged around in my coat pockets just in case I'd pulled a Pillsbury (my term for absentmindedly putting something away where it doesn't belong, named after the time I stashed a tube of Pillsbury "keep refrigerated" crescent rolls in the cupboard instead of the fridge).

Frantically emailed all my co-workers, asking if anyone had seen an extra, lone stapler on the loose around the office.

Nah.

Milton and Stapler in Office Space

Cindy thought I was beginning to sound a bit like Milton obsessing over his precious red Swingline in the movie Office Space. Shirley, apparently sensing my desperation, immediately offered me an extra stapler she happened to have on hand.

Finally chalked up my missing stapler as just another mindless menopausal mystery.

A short while later I reached into my top right hand desk drawer -- one I had dug through earlier -- and there was the damn stapler.  Just sittin' there smug as you please.

ARGHGHGHGHGHGHGH.

Isn't that just the way?

Admit it.  If you're over the age of 40, you've more than likely experienced the same thing. Daily.

Which is why I think my book "Who Moved My Stapler?" would be the perfect gift for the menopaustic mama who has everything but can't remember where she put any of it.

Endless chapter title possibilities:

Who Ran Off With The Remote?  Anybody Seen My Shoes?  Wherefore Art Thou, Cell Phone?  Who Hid My Car Keys?  Where The Hell Is My Purse?

The final chapter?

Gotta Be Around Here Somewhere.

Oy.