Ok, this just happened yesterday, on October 16th (2012, if you must).
Basically, I was packing my school bag because I never bother packing my bag the night before. The 8th Graders aren't allowed lockers at our school, due to locker shortage. So we have to pack according to our subjects on the particular day.
So I was looking at my timetable and packing accordingly, repacking books from yesterday and taking other books from my stack of textbooks.
And I realize I'm missing two books and a notebook.
I begin hunting around the rest of my room. This happens alot, and it usually takes less than a minute to find them. But I just COULDN'T find them!
I began looking around the house, because, being the irritatingly careless person I am, my books do occasionally end up in random rooms around it. I go around the whole thing three times, and end up nowhere.
Sighing, I go to my mother, and report that I've lost two books and a copy.
One of the books lost was of a subject that I had a test for today, but hadn't bothered revising for, because I did the day before.
"Weren't you studying from it?" she asked me.
"Er, yes," I lied anxiously. She would DEFINITELY kill me for not studying.
So we go around hunting for it, because, you know, whenever a mom looks for something, she ends up finding it. Its strange, but quite a fact.
I begin to wonder if my friend Jessie (I asked her for her favorite name, so I could write her down here, and she replied, Jessie J. I told her not to copy a name, so she made it Jessie Stylinson. That girl can read my mind.) had taken them home. I mean, she's taken my biology notebook home before, so maybe...
Our search around the house came to no avail. Tired, I said, "Just forget it. I'll search for it when I come back, and share a book with a friend."
So we give up.
"Check in your bag," my mother calls as I finish up my packing.
I don't. Like I would repack my whole bag and not notice I packed them accidently.
But when I zip my bag closed, I spot a notebook.
A very familiar notebook.
I pull it out, and curse.
And then there's something next to it.
I pull that out too, and groan.
The universe must hate me.
A book and a copy down, another book to go. My guess, it would be as stupid a place.
My sister was sick, and had to stay home. But we can't stay home alone (the troubles of being young) so she was dropped to my grandmother's. I go inside to call her.
I tell her we're leaving.
"Oh, ok. And you left your book here last time."
I stare at the book in her hand, which is laughing at me accusingly.
I mentally facepalm.
The universe REALLY must hate me.