The Mango Incident

This story is more puzzling than it is interesting; but it has been bothering me, so here it is.

Last Friday, after finishing what is allegedly the hardest term of the graduate program, I went over to my friends' apartment to hang out and celebrate. It was a gorgeous evening and we were in the mood for some celebration-type food, so we walked to the nearby grocery store to look for pink cupcake mix and to meet up with another friend. In brief, the store was out of pink cupcake mix (disappointing) so we started looking for acceptable substitutes. We settled on wine and assorted candies. On a whim, I picked up one more item. Enter, the mango. It looked a lot like this one.
Anyway, all you really need to know about that night is that I bought a mango with the intention of eating it, but did not.

The next morning, I packed up to drive 273 miles down to Hillsboro for first installment of my summer vacation (which is only a week long). It was early and I was tired, so I used my favorite packing method, namely throwing everything I think I might need into a laundry basket and hauling the whole mess down to my car. At the last second, I remembered the mango, set it gently on top of the contents of my basket and left.

Fast forward two days, I am lounging in a hammock with Evan. It's warm outside, so we go in for a glass of water. On his kitchen counter, there is a container with two mangoes in it. I think to myself "Damn, did I ever take that mango out of the laundry basket? Do I even remember seeing it the last time I dug through the basket?" The answer to both questions is "no." I ask Evan for a pen and write "mango" on my left hand as a reminder that I need to look for it when I get home. I manage to forget about it totally and completely for the next three days.

Today, I am buying gas at Costco, and I remember the mango. I try to write "mango" on my hand again (I am certain it will work this time) but all I have is a pencil. No good. I vow to remember anyway. I go over to DL's house. She has a pen, so I write "mango" one more time. We hang out, I go home. I catch a glimpse of "mango" written on my hand as I am watching TV. I start looking immediately. I search through my laundry basket, no mango. Maybe it fell out? I look under my bed, no mango. Did have the foresight to put it in the fridge upon arrival? Short answer, no. Here's the thing, I look everywhere and I cannot find that damn mango. The most troubling part is that my mom thinks she remembers seeing it in the top layer of my laundry basket stuff when I walked in the door on Saturday. That exotic piece of fruit was ripe 6 days ago when I bought it, it is most certainly past it's prime now. I can't let it go. Who loses a mango in laundry basket?