Stop losing the fight against losing your things
Two summers ago I lost my keys for a full week. As a hyper-organized person whom Freud would have labeled "anal-retentive," this freaked me out. It was my then-9-year-old daughter who finally found the keys. I had slipped them into the pocket of her book bag when rushing frantically between assorted appointments. The keys had a relaxing week with Kelsea at pottery camp while I sweated and stewed over their absence.
The technological solution
All week long I wished I could "call" my...