What do you lose most often?

A month ago, my grandson and I went on our annual squirrel camp in the national forest. Came home but didn't start unpacking until the next day. I hadn't left this place for a couple days. Went to jump in the truck to go get some beer and NO DAMED KEYS. I have literally torn this place apart. No keys. I have lost things in my garage that are still in there some place! I'm getting terrible about picking up a tool, carrying it across the garage and laying it back down to look for something else. Then wind up with two lost tools. I spend more time looking for stuff to do stuff with then doing the stuff!!:mad:
 
birddude said:
A month ago, my grandson and I went on our annual squirrel camp in the national forest. Came home but didn't start unpacking until the next day. I hadn't left this place for a couple days. Went to jump in the truck to go get some beer and NO DAMED KEYS. I have literally torn this place apart. No keys. I have lost things in my garage that are still in there some place! I'm getting terrible about picking up a tool, carrying it across the garage and laying it back down to look for something else. Then wind up with two lost tools. I spend more time looking for stuff to do stuff with then doing the stuff!!:mad:
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Find your keys?
 
I have left dog bowls in the field after watering the dogs. I'm pretty much 100% on giving them water after working a field. I have driven off after loading the dogs with the bowl not in the truck. Thankfully it's where I left it when I realize the problem after the next field. So not lost but...not real smart either.
 
My first time hunting pheasant was alone in a giant field of bluestem you could hardly see over. In deep snow. Wearing blue jeans. I was clueless. I needed help, so called my buddy Mike, he'd grown up hunting, and I really needed somebody to show me the ropes. A couple days later we headed out with Brandy. She was a pocket size American Brittany and boy was it something to see that bluestem ripple as she tore through the field. Her collar fell off that day, it was handmade by Mike. A week or two later I drove to that spot and draped over the gate was Brandy's orange and brown collar. All I can figure, that thing would never have been found in super-thick bluestem but by another hunting dog, then left where I could find it by a thoughtful hunter. Whoever that was thank you. When Brandy was buried they placed a few of her favorite things in the coffin. A grouse fan, a couple long rooster tail feathers, a favorite toy, and her lucky collar.
 
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