Here I sit, coffee too hot to do much but sip. The day stretches before me as I consider what to do with it. I smell rain coming and am glad I finished my mowing and transplanting seedlings yesterday. I am thinking about mulching another garden bed, but my aching joints are arguing with me.
Only 3 hours to myself and those hours will be filled with all the necessary chores of making the park ready for another day. Rain will bring some relief, but it is Friday in a campground and reservations will be here to check in.
I don't have an official "lost and found" area. If something is turned in to the office or I find items in the bathrooms or the pool area, I keep them in the office for a time, waiting for someone to claim them. Usually it is a towel or water toy left at the pool, or a swimsuit left in one of the bathrooms. Shoes, too. Occasionally I will find a set of keys, jewelry and once a cell phone. Those items are claimed pretty quickly. The towels and clothes aren't. Since they are wet when I find them, I wash them and fold them while they linger in my care.
They are usually not claimed and I drop the clothing off at a thrift store. I keep the towels. Sometimes they are nearly new and I add them to my collection of pool towels for my grandchildren to use when they are here. If they are old and raggedy, they are put in my "dog towel" section.
I currently have two items in my lost and found. A toe ring of dubious value and some teeth. Yes, you read that right. Dentures. Left in the men's room. I assume that some man is walking around toothless. It has been a week. I would think that this missing item would have been noticed by the owner? It has been a week.
"Honey, I found a set of dentures in the bathroom and they have been here over a week ....." He Who has just awakened and is donning his everyday clothes with reflective stripes and steel toed boots, asks, no demands, to know who they belong to. I just give him an incredulous look in response. "I am assuming they belong to a man, since they were in the men's room, but I have no idea who this man is." "Oh", he says, "I thought you meant our bathroom."
This is my life. I am tossing the dentures today, lest they decide to jump out of the pink cup and bite me. Perhaps I should display them on the counter, you know, like a conversation piece. Maybe I should just go put them in the infamous barn, where things are lost, never to be found again.