Just spent two hours today looking for some magazines for a 1911 I put away about a year ago. I have spent at least that long over the last two weeks looking for them as well. So after running out of ideas for the third time today I started over...again...starting at the place where I should have put them, in the mag pouches on the top of the safe in my office, the big cordura ones that hold 8 mags. The kind they used to like to put in prize packages for mid level shooters like me. We'll guess what. There they are. Right where I put them...and looked for them...at least 8 times, at least that many. I hate me. I learned a long time ago it is easier to put it away than to look for it. Now I can't even blame the usual culprit around my house, my wife, my child or the dog...I hate getting old. I hate me. Squirrelcop