It took a year less 18 days. I searched everywhere again and again. And again. I looked in every remaining movers' box.
When we unpacked, we cut down every box... laid all packing paper flat. Nothing would escape. But my $1000 microphone (okay, $950) was lost. LOST. Or (cue dramatic music) stolen. But it was in a box in a box when I last saw it (or remember seeing it) so who would even know what it was or want it? The PACKER! The MOVER! The weaselly assistant packer!!! Naaa. They didn't have the look. A microphone isn't a commodity - it's not like everyone wants one (or would even recognize the nondescript box.)
Planning a trip sometime later this winter, Terri had begun looking for the snorkel gear - it was MIA! This led to my bumping around the storage darkness over the garage and then in the attic, reopening all the remaining boxes (MAN I TOOK A TON OF PICTURES OVER THE YEARS!!!) My high school yearbook was spotted. My college radio stint in pictures - a favorite is the boys trying to pull my tongue out with needle nose pliers. Terri's baby dolls, her CRIB!
Found the snorkel, masks and fins. It was with her childhood stuffed animals. They weren't using them.
But no microphone.
However, by then, my adrenal-search-gland-mojo was workin', so I went through the whole house, every drawer, shelf, box... no luck!
Then I thought I'd try one more place. Of course the box LOOKED like files, but was "stuff" wrapped in paper and in the stuff... was the missing microphone.
Boy did that feel good. Perseverance paid in full!
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