I have lost a cup. Not an expensive, one-of-a-kind cup. Not a rare piece of china or crystal passed down from my mother's grandmother. No, just a plastic cup. An Eskimo Joe's cup, to be precise. But it's not just any Eskimo Joe's cup. Not the regular short, fat ones. No, this one is a big tall one that you can only buy at the store. I bought four of them last fall and I LOVE them. I use one every day.
Ever since the big birthday party, I've been missing the pink one. And I've looked everywhere. I'm sure someone just walked off with it. Probably my dad. He and his family have this weird quirk about taking cups from other people's houses. So what's the big deal, right? It's just a plastic cup, I have three more, and besided, I can always order more if I need them.
Here is the problem. I confess, it is about as anal-retentive and obsessive-compulsive as you can get. My problem is that there are only three left. As in 2 in one stack and a stack of, well, one. Which isn't a stack at all. So there's always just one sitting there, stackless. And it drives me nuts.
I gotta get a life.