How can something disappear that quickly?

I've been looking for my glasses . . . all morning.  Finally put my contacts in - still no sign of them.  How can I have them one moment and they are ether the next?  

I've lost my keys, my ipod, my phone and a candy bar that I KNOW I bought last time I was in the store.  


One of my favorite books for awhile, as a child, was The Borrowers.  It had charming, tiny people who lived about the house and "borrowed" things that seemingly disappeared.  A button, a key, a thimble?  They've taken it to close a purse, use for a table or bed.  I loved the idea of making sense from the senseless.


I have been looking for one set of keys for about a month.  I know they are here . . . somewhere . . . mocking me.  They will be in the last place I look.  Just love that expression.  What kind of person will keep looking after they've found something?


I believe that the keys and the glasses have joined forces and are gaslighting me.  They chortle, they are amused at my befuddled searching.  


They should be joined by the fog that lives in the kitchen.  Sometimes I enter and it steals the very thing I planned to do right from my brain.