I found my own earring in the washing machine and thought, of course

Dear Delyara, Not because I drop things often. Because my life now is full of things disappearing into the wrong places. School notes in the kitchen. Pens in the bathroom. Hair clips in work coats. Receipts in cereal boxes. And now my own earring at the bottom of the washing machine, caught in one of the little holes like life itself was mocking the possibility of simple categories. I laughed. Then I felt tired. Then I put the earring on the windowsill and forgot it again for three hours. That is the rhythm of it now.