Lost and Found

I hate losing things. I think most people do but it sends me into a tail spin. It doesn't matter if it's an item of mine or the kids. As soon as it's realized that the item is missing, the questions begin. When was it seen last? Where did I have it? Where was I if we were out of the house?
I mentally ask myself these questions if it's my item. If it's the kids, it might take longer to get answers and usually more questions ensue.
This time, it's me who lost an item. I lost my earring. A gold earring. This wouldn't be the first time I lost one. It's more frustrating this time because I don't have a back up pair that I like. And I lost one of these before and was lucky enough to have found it.
Not this time.
When I realized it last night, I went on a man hunt. Or woman hunt. I started looking under my recliner. Which I made a mental note, clean under that thing. I checked all the obvious places. I even looked in my jewelry dish, maybe I started the day with only one. I wasn't leaving out any possibilities.
I didn't find it. The worst part of hunting around the house to find something that is missing. I find dirty spots in my house that I hadn't noticed before. So it escalates my OCD. Compound that with a missing item plus the scouring the house for it.
I finally gave up. I'm not sure if it was finding more things I needed to clean or knowing that this was an effort in futility.
I'll be on the lookout for it now when I'm cleaning.