​This is a lost and found story. You can’t remember where you placed something and go nuts trying to retrace your steps. Like most stories, there are ups and downs before reaching the conclusion.
 
This is also a bit of a love story. A love story of a jacket I’ve had for a LONG time. Which is why not being able to find it drove me crazy and triggered extra intuition in the process of locating it.
 
The jacket is a navy blue zip-up lightweight -- good to wear in spring/fall. I like the fact that it is not a pullover. I like that when you sweat inside it, it doesn’t capture body odor. There’s a reason for that.
 
The jacket is close to 25-years-old, and I purchased it the first year I started to referee college basketball. The next season, the powers-that-be changed the jacket color to black, so the navy blue version became obsolete. I kept it to wear casually and comfortably. Designed for your warmup period before the basketball game, some material is used that keeps out (or absorbs) your BO way more effectively than any other jacket I have.
 
I wear it now to walk our dogs, go to the supermarket, and to run other errands. Slip it on, don’t need to zip it up, and off you go.
 
When I noticed I couldn’t find it (not necessarily “missing”) a few weeks back, I checked the typical locations where I toss it without thinking because I know I’ll put it on again soon. That included a post at the top of our stairway where I can quickly grab it conveniently to head out the door. I also looked on our bedroom floor, where I will put things I know I’m going to jump into the next morning. I examined the hall closet where it “should” be if I would ever properly hang it up.

Those were the basic hiding places and none turned it up. When you can’t find something, frustration ratchets up, and that often blocks your mind from functioning properly. You need to free-up those brain cells to trigger the extra intuition.

I didn’t do that right away, as my wife can attest. I kept looking in the same haunts, exclaiming loudly throughout the house about where the heck it could be. I thought through where I’d been the past two days, wondering what that meant in terms of where I’d laid it down.
 
And, of course, I checked the lost and found at our fitness center, where I’ve been known to forget things before. None yielded results.
 
I stepped back. Decided not to think about it for a while. Used that time to trigger extra intuition.
 
I looked at the problem differently, tracing where I’d been the previous day, knowing I’d had it then last. “Okay, so what were you doing,” I thought to myself, and the answer popped instantaneously. I’d played baseball and it was cold, so I’d worn the jacket to the game then put it into my carrying bag.

I didn’t even need to look into the closet for my baseball gear, instead yelling to my wife, “Honey, I know where my jacket is without even looking.”
 
“It’s in your baseball bag, isn’t it?,” she replied.
 
She triggered some extra intuition, too. Some of us have to work at it though.

​My key goal this year is to see mild sustained progress. That applies to life in general – work, play, health, Covid. Hopefully, the year is better at the end than it was at the beginning.

Implicit in achieving that goal to me is the concept of improved psychic happiness. Find those things that bring you joy or a sense of accomplishment, and focus on them. Stay away from the bad guys and bad news. Get done what you can get done. See the friends that you really like.
 
This may sound weird (or else you may find you are like me and also appreciate this), but one activity I enjoy is vacuuming. That’s always been the case in general, but we have purchased an electric rechargeable, mobile lightweight vacuum cleaner. It dominates!
 
I zip around, sucking up dog and cat fur, pellets from the cat litter box that get tracked all over the damn place, and all those food particles that get dumped in the kitchen along with the various places that we consume our meals (not necessarily the dinner table).
 
Implicitly, what is it that brings me a sense of accomplishment after vacuuming? Why does it improve my outlook while I’m pushing the vacuum around and looking at the floor and rugs afterwards?
 
I think it has to do with creating a sense of order out of chaos. Rather than looking at the wood floor as the sun beams through our windows from the east, illuminating massive trails of fur and other debris, the vacuumed sections look clean and fresh after patrolling the area.
 
It reminds me of mowing grass, trimming bushes and raking leaves. One could argue all are “chores” or “tasks.” I don’t see them that way. Yes, they all have a degree of repetition to them, which could make them fall into the category of “work.”
 
But, they all also make things look better afterwards. They give a sense of order. You feel the accomplishment looking back and thinking about how the lawn, ground or floor looked earlier.
 
There is a lot to be said for that feeling. The world is right. You’ve finished something. It’s tangible. We often lack that in our work or personal lives. You can feel mired in the middle of nothing getting done.
 
Vacuumed helps give me improved psychic happiness. I’m not stuck “in the process.” Instead, you’re done, can slap your hands together and look back knowing you made something look better.
You can take the feeling and bottle it. The psychic improvement is not limited to vacuuming, mowing or trimming. You find it elsewhere, perhaps as a welder or an auto mechanic or cleaning hotel rooms. You repair an engine, tidy up a mess, make the table sparkle.
 
Afterwards, it feels good. And while you’re “in” the activity, there is a sense of meditation and relaxation. If you haven’t found that yet, you might need to work at changing your mindset.
 
I accomplished something today. I vacuumed. I feel better now.

​I developed this phrase, “Dressing for food functionality” based on my ability to mess up shirts, pants, sweaters, any piece of clothing by spilling sauces (for the most part) on them. No matter what I do, if I’m wearing a solid bright color (white, in particular), there will be a spill from eating something that puts an ugly tattoo splatter that won’t come out in the laundry.

Count on it. Wear that white polo shirt, and I will (and perhaps you will, too) swipe coffee accidently, shooting it across your desk and soaking you in a very unprofessional matter. I’ve seen a senior executive vice president do this to start the morning and live in spillage infamy the rest of the day.
 
It’s an important reason to dress for food functionality. Don’t wear solid bright colors if you’re going out for Italian or Mexican food. Think through your decisions based on what can and WILL fall into your lap and make your pants look bad, unprofessional or just plain embarrassing.
 
It will happen. Our dad proved that point in our family. We mocked him one time for continuously messing up shirts, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself clean, wearing thick and wide bibs, tucking them in tightly, trying to eat more slowly.
 
He vowed and bet us one time he could go through a spaghetti dinner clean. Pulled his chair up tight to the dinner table. Ate slowly, small bites. Paid attention to passing the food. But, when he pulled away from the table, there it was: splashes of tomato sauce down the front of the shirt.
 
Do not wear white to a barbecue place. Forget about that bright yellow blouse if you’re going out for pizza. You will lose.
 
Dressing for food functionality means thinking through your what’s going into your mouth, what will fall off the table into your lap, and what will miss you entirely and end up on the floor. The problem is you can’t predict. The spilling and splashing happens regardless of protective measures.
 
As I drive a certain portion of the highway west of Milwaukee, there are a series of small bumps. There is no sign warning you, but I’ve driven that turf often enough to KNOW there are landmines as your car zips through the area. Does that stop me from taking a coffee sip right at the time I’m rolling over those bumps? Of course not.
 
So, without thinking, as the coffee sipping lip comes to my mouth, the car hits one of those bumps and I try to pull my head back, extend my coffee container away from my body, and still feel the immediate hot sensation of landing coffee on my chest.

Curse words ensue. I slap my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Remember the bumps on the road here. But, I don’t.

Dressing for food functionality solves the problem of your clumsiness, lack of attention, or ignorance. Wear a paisley shirt to hide stains when you are in a food danger zone. Prepare beforehand. Acknowledge you will make a mess.
 
Drop solid bright colors from your wardrobe. I did this years ago. Multiple-colored shirts are a safer bet.
 
You cannot complete insulate yourself from food spilling disasters, but by dressing for food functionality at least you can mitigate some of the embarrassment.

​All it takes is one episode of Jeopardy to see the failure of my education. If I can pose four correct questions in the opening round and two in the Double Jeopardy round, I feel like a success.
 
Unlike the contestants (or my wife for that matter) who either know the categories implicitly and can give the right questions to the answers when they are selected, I sit in my comfy chair dumbfounded. Either I have absolutely no idea about the specific topic, or I can’t get my brain to function cognitively quick enough to spit out the information they are looking for.
 
It would be lovely to say it was the slowness of my brain, that I did know the question to the answer, but that is not the case for the most part. Occasionally, I randomly spew something out that makes my wife smile at me and go, “good job,” but that’s about the best I can do. I do get some weird ones right that no one else participating on the show that night has buzzed in.
 
But, back to the failure of my education. Somewhere, somehow, either I don’t remember or I’ve chosen to forget, there are some large gaps in what I know compared to the people participating on the show.
 
Science for one. Physics for another. European history. Characters in novels (I’ve read a lot of books and could tell you how they make me feel generically 13 years after reading them, but not be able to name the characters).
 
I get it. The contestants have an ear for detail. And, they study to go on the show. They have a sense of the categories and they bone up, memorizing minute details. I’m also not good at those details, BTW.
 
Specific molecules, the names of prehistoric beasts, RNA and DNA didn’t and don’t stick with me. That knowledge base, if it came to me through my schooling, is now gone. Evaporated. Disposed. Eradicated.
 
And, I wonder if that is good or bad. Jeopardy winners master arcane detail. And, they hit the buzzer quickly. If you have those two qualities, you’d be an excellent contestant.
 
I often feel when a category pops up, like, “Baseball Stars of the 1960s,” that I’d crush it. Even then though, it seems like those researching the answers throw at least one curve ball at me, where I say to myself, “What the heck? There’s no way anyone is going to get that.” And, then, someone does.
 
I salute everyone who is quick on the show and builds up a pile of money. I can’t do that, but I can find a nugget here and there to demonstrate the weird things my mind remembers.
 
And, with remarkable accuracy, I can predict what the contestants will bid when they hit the “Daily Double.” You gauge how far up or behind they are in the game, assess their risk ratio from how they’ve played the game so far, and read their body language. It’s not hard.
 
But, I guess there is no show where I can demonstrate that expertise. If there were, I’d win the “Predictor” prize for the “Daily Double.” Everyone’s good at something.