My Room Ate My Memory Card

I'm going to have to accept the fact that my room ate my memory card.  I have been meaning to post this essay I wrote about fishing in Utah.  Yet, I want to post pictures to go with it.  Those pictures are on an old memory card I used in my previous camera.  I used to keep that memory card on one of the shelves in my room.  Alas! I moved my furniture around to paint my room and the memory card is missing.  Thus, the logical conclusion is that my room ate it.

My room has probably held a grudge against me for years for keeping it such a mess.  The humble room sits there unable to do anything about how it looks.  Slowly, the disarray and clutter drives the room insane much like the brain of a disorganized thinker.  As such, the room had to develop a complex of some sort.  My theory is that the room must have chosen kleptomania.  

And what better item to steal than a memory card with tons of landscape photos.  The room absorbs these photos in happiness because the country has so many wide open spaces.  There is neither clutter nor disarray.  The room can experience some sense of peace at the acknowledgment that clean open spaces exist.  There is hope for order in this world.

Make no mistake.  I will clean my room.  It just makes it a little difficult with so many shelves that need to be emptied and furniture that needs to be moved.  I can totally relate to the space's conundrum.  When it is clean and painted, I'm sure I'll find my memory card.  There are other items I've lost that have been gone so long that I know I won't recover them.  As my room has hope for order, I have hope for finding what is lost and sharing it with others.