The Stress Address

I woke up one morning and couldn't find my stress.
It was Tuesday.  It had just rained.
It felt like a Tuesday morning in Africa.  Surely I hadn't left my stress there.  It had been almost five years.
Surely it was bunched up in a ball under my covers, at the foot of my bed, in the time-centered country of the U.S.A.
But I make my bed every day.
And the stress wasn't there.
Maybe I had stuck it between the pages of the dense and didactic text book I diligently and fervently read, for fear of fallacy and failure of 47 minds.  


Until I found my place marked with a better understanding of what my responsibilities were not, and noticed the stress wasn't there.
I opened my fridge.  I can recall times when I used to lose it there.  I closed the door and continued my search.
As I got ready to leave for work, I noticed the weight of my bag was light.
Uh oh.  Had I really forgotten my stress at work?
Had I really left it at school?
I suppose I'll find out, after my ten minute, stress-less bike commute.
And if it's not there, I won't even care...