I have to admit, I have too much stuff.... treasures.... nonsense. And I seem to have a bad habit that has gotten worse with time (and age?).... I "hide" things from myself, only to find them after hours or days or months of searching and finally giving up. It seems so silly to have to admit that you (well, not you, but I) have misplaced something in your own home. Even more sad, I find myself making silly excuses to my daughter like, "I know where 'it' is.... I'm just looking at all the other things first." Or, "Leave me alone! This IS the way I find what I'm looking for... I know right where to look." Pathetic.
But there is a certain amount of bliss that is the unraveling of the mystery.... the FIND, if you will. That realization that you 'aren't crazy after all'.... it was there all the time, just as you so carefully tucked it away.
Maybe an elaborate cataloging system would work; like the Library of Congress. But then I would have to have someone to maintain all of those records and details and dust everything.
I suppose the fun in not seeing something everyday is like the seasons changing now.... if it were autumn all the time, we wouldn't enjoy it so much--- anxiously await it's return. Maybe it's in the 'rediscovering' that we are our happiest.