Having spent the past week at a hotel, I’ve returned each evening to a wonderfully tidy room. The woman who cleans it, Ruby, has even gone to the trouble of folding my scarf, laying my jewelry out neatly on the bathroom counter. (as opposed to the tangled little pile of bracelets and earrings I’d created) Yesterday she even left me a sweet little note wishing me a good afternoon.

I adore Ruby. I want to take her home with me. Because I’m pretty sure she could help me finally get organized.

Last week, I managed to lose a set of keys and my employee badge.

Last night, the restaurant I ate dinner at called the hotel and told the desk clerk I’d left a set of keys on the table. (I hadn’t noticed since I was carrying an extra set after losing my keys last week.)

When I returned to the hotel — after collecting my keys — I realized I’d left my hotel keys in the room. So I got two more. The clerk found this hilarious.

I’m going home today. Yet I fully expect a call from someone in this town in which I’m told I left yet another item somewhere.

Let’s just hope it’s not my glasses. Because that’s happened before too. Twice.