Let me start by saying I have this thing about being organized. Very organized. I have lists for everything, even lists of my lists. This personality trait probably evolved because of my ADHD as a means of finding order in my own personal chaos. I don’t know if I could have survived medical school otherwise. Throw in 5 kids (six if you count my husband,) and my obsessive compulsion for organization ramps up into high gear. For instance, I keep my daily schedule on my iPhone, but I duplicate the day’s activities on an index card, which, like a newly hatched chick, never strays far from my side.

Naturally, kids love to pick up on a parent’s flaws for their own entertainment, and I’ve certainly given them lots of material for that. Erik, in particular, used to laugh at my index cards, especially when it had things on it like “open mail,” “bathe kids,” and “make tomorrow’s index card.” He always pulled my leg with comments like, “What? You forgot to write down ‘breathe,’ and ‘chew food!'”

Now you have the back story. Remember the fortune cookie message from yesterday? Well, it all came true this morning. I took the kids to school as I usually do, and when I returned home, I noticed the index card, which I usually keep in my purse, was missing. I went back out to my car to check the console, but it wasn’t there. So I looked throughout the house: the kids’ bedrooms, the bathrooms, under the sofas, in the trashcans. Nothing. ‘Hmm. That’s weird,’ I thought to myself feeling mildly irritated. Determined to prevail, I went back out to my car, checked under and beside the seats, in the side door pockets, on the ground around and under the car, etc. Nothing. The garage? Nothing. The dog food canister? Nothing. All the trashcans again? Nothing. All of the rooms in the house? Nothing. I even emptied out the contents of my purse, which basically included my wallet, sunglasses, lipstick, cell phone and comb. Nothing.

Panic started to creep in. I could make another card, but what if I had written something critical down that had not been entered into my iPhone? I looked one more time—everywhere—and came up with a big fat zero once again.

At that point, I had to reluctantly resign myself to the possibility that my precious index card had vanished into thin air. Begrudgingly, I made another one, straining doggedly not to forget a single reminder. I did so hurriedly, because I had planned to visit with my parents across town and needed to get there long before my father left for the gym for his daily workout. But as I started to grab my purse, I saw a flash of white sticking out about 2 inches. My heart stopped. In my mind’s eye, I say Erik’s face with that classic mischievous smile of his–the smile that says “you’re punked!” I reached inside and pulled out the target of my half-hour long search–the infamous index card. I knew he had pulled a meaningful prank to let me know that he is, indeed, alive and as sneaky as ever. Mind you, I had searched my purse three times, once emptying out its sparse contents. There is NO WAY I would have missed a 4 X 6 white index card in a small black purse! Furthermore, I was the only person in the house, and my cats, lacking an opposable thumb, could not possibly take the rap.

I’m so thankful that Erik made good on yesterday’s promise, but I’m even more thankful that his endearing personality and wonderfully exuberant spirit has survived his untimely death. Bring in on, buddy! I’ve got some tricks of my own up my sleeve!

PS: As I finished this post, I got a whiff of that horrible three day sock smell Erik was (in)famous for. Dude, find another means of confirmation!