How to induce a panic attack

Tonight, I'm trying to work on the methodology section of my proposal, which should be straightforward, but isn't terribly fun.  Since tomorrow is 1 July, it will be time to apply to renew my work permit, since that process takes about a month, and my permit expires 31 July.

Last weekend, we were on a faculty strategic planning retreat, and since we were away, I had to ask someone to stay in my flat to care for Meri.  This meant that I had to organize the desk a bit since it's in the guest room.   When I left, it looked lovely, and the retreat was good, even if we did plan for a boat load of work.  I had flashbacks to being at Booz Allen, and used phrases like "Gantt chart" and "low-hanging fruit," which quite honestly appalled me a bit.

To prepare for the work permit reapplication (and procrastinate on the methodology, let's be honest), I needed to get out my appointment letter and Interpol certificate of good conduct.  I haven't written about that process yet, but I will, because bureaucracy is torturous in any country.

So, I started plowing through the pile of paper on my desk looking for the appointment letter and certificate of good conduct.  I knew they were here, because I scanned them.  I knew I hadn't filed them, because I was going to need them fairly soon.  

And as we say here, "all of them were not there."  THIS is how to induce a panic attack; misplace critical documents that could be replaced, but at great cost to one's pride and time.

After some frantic searching and praying, I looked through the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, which conveniently holds the things that really don't have a place to be, and there they were.  Hallelujah.  I don't think I've been so happy to find paper in my life.