Well, I have some good news and some bad news.
The bad news is that I got back home from a weekend away where I got an average of five hours of sleep a night and then thought, "Gee, while I'm not at all in my right mind, I should definitely do some laundry." Then I ate a bag of Fritos and let a red Crayola melt all over every last piece of clothing I'd put into the dryer. My favorite jeans, Jackson's two new pairs of school pants. The inside of the dryer a striped, waxy pink. It was all too much to comprehend. I had to go sit down.
Then I took a nap.
Groggily, I went to pick up Jackson from school. He got in the back with Cookie and Peewee and I said, "I have some bad news. I forgot to check your pockets and I accidentally washed your red crayon and it, like, tie-dyed a whole load of clothes."
"My favorite red crayon? The one I brought from school? That I won for guessing how many crayons were in the estimating jar?"
"That was my favorite crayon!" Buh, buh, buh!
"I promised it I'd never let anything happen to it!" *sob*
"It was so --" *gasp* "-- special to me!"
"We can get you another one," I said, stupidly. Stupid, insane, absurd mother.
"There will never be another crayon like MY! RED! CRAYON!" Buh-huh-huuuuuu.
Five minutes later we got home and parked in the garage. I got into the back seat and hugged him and wiped all the tears off his face, my lord so many tears, it was like he'd shampooed with Visine. Actually, I felt like he was starting to milk it a little, but you know, I'd been gone for a few days, he was allowed. After a few minutes he calmed down.
"I loved my red crayon," he said.
"I know," I said. "Want a piggyback ride into the house?"
He got inside and indulged in a little more moping, and then he said, "Where's the laundry basket?" I opened the laundry closet and showed him where I'd abandoned it. He burst out laughing.
"Look at your white pants!" he cackled.
As I write this I am soaking the whole ruined load with a gallon each of every stain formula laundry soap in the solar system.
But the good news is, I found my little camera! I got back to LAX and I was digging through all my bags looking for my iPod so I'd have some music for the drive home, and I opened up a pocket in my purse -- you know, the pocket that usually holds my little camera? And there was my camera. Yeah. I'd been carrying it around for weeks going, "Damn, I wish I had my camera."
So what have we learned here today? Besides check your pockets? Nothing, that's it! Check your pockets, folks! CHECK YOUR FUCKING POCKETS.