I dare myself to know what I keep in this binder.
I've been thinking about cataloguing (button sorting).
You can lose seven whale skeletons in the space between the external and interior rotundas of a museum. It's been done.
Darwin's specimens got lost in a cupboard. Hooker was absent minded and forgot to label them for what they were, for whatever reason. Let's choose to believe he couldn't resist the Himilayas.
At least that's how I remember it, and that's the point of this entire story: I have a terrible memory.
Things get lost. And found. *
* Note to myself: This notebook is on the red book truck.