I know I am. Last week I surpassed myself. During our usual weekly gathering I asked my friends if they were in the habit of losing things and after our natter, I did feel slightly better.
"Do you ever lose anything?" I asked the group.
"What made you ask that?" asked Christine.
"Well …" I started to explain. "As you know, I always get the train to and from work.
"However, last Friday I had to take my car instead of the train. After work, AND AS I STEPPED OFF THE TRAIN IN AIRDRIE I stared at the space where I thought my car should be in the station car park.
"After combing the car park I deduced that my car had been stolen when suddenly the penny dropped and I realised I had left my car in Glasgow.
"Bloody hell Janice. I've heard of people forgetting their mobile phone or their shopping," screeched my dad when I asked him for a lift back into Glasgow.
"But I've never heard of anyone forgetting their car," he continued.
Mae, who looked not the least bit surprised, butted in.
"Oh, that's nothing. I left my wee nephew in Morrison's."
"You did what?" Christine cried out. "How on earth could you forget your nephew? Did he run away from you?"
"No," Mae explained sheepishly, "he was still in his buggy."
My car incident now looked surprisingly normal.
"We were in Morrison's when I parked the buggy down an aisle to look at something and before I knew it I was out of the shop and in my car."
Looking at our bemused faces, Mae continued: "It was only when I turned my head to reverse out of my space that the empty child car seat caught my eye and I realised I had left him in the store."
Apparently in a blind panic Mae dashed back into the store and much to her relief found the toddler still fast asleep in his buggy exactly where she had left him.
When we finally stopped laughing Julie joined in.
"My daughter Laura works in a hotel and apparently people leave all sorts of things behind. Only last week one of the chambermaids found a glass eye," she said.
"How can you check out without your glass eye?" asked Mae.
"Well it's not like you need it to see," I pointed out.
Nodding in agreement Fiona butted in.
"My disabled mum returned home without her wheelchair.
"Apparently she forgot she had left it outside the supermarket toilet and hobbled out of the shop and into a taxi. It was only when she arrived home she realised she had left it behind.
"I suppose we are all guilty of losing things," I thought somewhat comforted by the fact that I was clearly not alone.
"Almost every time I come out of a shop in the retail park these days," I told the girls.
"I can never find my car and I'm not talking about a multi-storey car park where you can't remember which floor you were on.
"The car should be visible from the store.
"I've seen me walking up and down and up and down searching and I usually find it two or three aisles away from where I thought I had parked."
To my delight everyone agreed that the same thing had happened to them.
So I continued to enlighten the group.
"Last Saturday morning I phoned Jenna (my daughter) and she said, 'What's up mum. I only spoke to you half an hour ago'.
"I know you did," I replied whispering.
"But I'm walking around Tesco car park and I can't find my car.
"I'm pretending I'm on my phone so that it doesn't look as if I'm searching for it. I don't want to look an idiot."
"Again?" she exclaimed. "Have you any idea where you left it."
"Well yes, I thought I did," I sighed. "I deliberately parked it next to a large white transit van so that it was easy to spot when I had finished shopping."
"And?" she asked.
"Well, the blinkin' van has obviously driven off," I explained as if it was now the van driver's fault. "So, I've now lost my bearings and I can't find it anywhere."
"Mum," (I could hear the exasperation in her voice) "part of the reason you bought a bright yellow car was so you could spot it miles away," she reminded me before hanging up the phone.
And there I found myself walking up yet another aisle, heavy bags in hand and talking to myself on my mobile.