I wanted to get an early start taking the family fishing this weekend. The earlier we got to the water, the cooler that water would be, and that would mean better luck catching trout. My wife and both boys needed to buy new licenses, but I have a lifetime fishing license and conservation stamp, so all I had to do was grab it.
I looked in the place it should be, but I didn’t see it. That frustrated me right off the bat. I don’t know how many times I’ve chastised both my boys for not keeping track of where they put their own licenses, and now it was me breaking that rule. And since my licenses are lifetime licenses, it’s even more of a problem. Since the boys’ licenses had expired, they would have to get new ones, anyway. But mine never expire. So I had to find them.
I couldn’t believe the last time I’d used them had been last hunting season, but I tore apart my hunting gear to check, just in case that’s where they were. I took everything out of my hunting pack, pulled all the gear out of the storage totes, and even looked in my bow and rifle cases. Nothing. I was starting to get desperate.
I emptied the gun safe, looking through all the important papers and behind all the boxes of ammo. No licenses. So I went back to where I usually keep my licenses and took another look. There they were, under a piece of paper I hadn’t moved the first time I looked.
I was glad I had actually put them back where they should be, but the fact that I had to look all over the house made me realize it’s been way too long since my last fishing trip. Their whereabouts should be fresher in my mind. I vowed to myself to go fishing again soon, and repeatedly, so I don’t ever lose track of where I put my fishing licenses again.