As a writer, I am always on the lookout for anything that might make for an interesting story, article, blog post, etc. But because my inspiration has the attention span of a gnat, I often scribble notes on whatever happens to be in reach—a receipt, an envelope, the back of a grocery list, or a random scrap of paper that’s already covered with something else.

Occasionally, I can even FIND that random piece of paper later. Usually, though, it disappears into the black hole otherwise known as my desk or my purse. Then I’m stuck, racking my brain for that brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime idea that will never grace my brain again.

Yes, I know I should have a better system for organizing my prompts. Other people keep lovely journals. They organize notes in apps. They use color-coded folders.

I, on the other hand, practice what could best be described as “creative archaeology.” In my defense, when I have these great ideas, I need to write them down quickly before I forget them. I don’t have time to look for a notebook or open an app while my great ideas slip away.

Today’s excavation uncovered a sheet of notebook paper I’d originally used to record book sales from my last signing. The back, once gloriously blank, had gradually become command central for my life. It held marketing points I recorded to turn in to my publisher, a promo code for a T-shirt website, a grocery item or two, a phone number with no name attached, and several mysterious words that apparently meant something profound at the time.

Two words stuck out. “Surf shark,” which was written under an idea I had for a blog. What on earth was THAT supposed to remind me of? Since I had absolutely no memory of writing it—or why—I did what any reasonable person would do. I Googled it.

Turns out it’s actually Surfshark—one word. It’s a VPN service that protects your devices from malware, scams, trackers, and other things on the internet that I’m apparently supposed to be worried about. Everyone on the entire planet except me probably knows what Surfshark is. Then, of course, I had to Google what a VPN was, as all these technical acronyms are way over my head. For those of you who already know, congratulations on being functional adults in the digital age. For the rest of us, VPN stands for Virtual Private Network.

The bigger mystery, however, wasn’t what Surfshark is. The bigger mystery was why I apparently thought I needed it. Why would I even want to go there when I can’t even access my Patient Portals from my doctor’s office? I have no idea what possessed me to jot down Surfshark, as if it was something I could actually navigate. I am a woman who occasionally gets locked out of my own email because I forget the password I just changed five minutes ago. I can diagnose a sick animal, but I can’t figure out why my computer insists it can’t see my printer when it’s literally sitting six inches away. Every time a website asks me to “verify I’m human,” I feel like it’s issuing a personal challenge.

What possessed me to write down “Surfshark” as though I was about to embark on some grand cybersecurity adventure? Did someone recommend it? Did I read an article? Was I hacked? Did I simply like the name because it sounded like the title of an action movie?

I’ll never know. And that’s the danger of leaving cryptic notes for my future self. Past Me always assumes Future Me will remember exactly what I meant. Future Me never does.

Some writers leave themselves detailed outlines. Others keep meticulous research files. I leave clues. Unfortunately, I’m apparently not very good at solving my own mysteries.

Somewhere in this house is another scrap of paper with the next brilliant blog idea on it. I’ll stumble across it six months from now, right after a coupon for cat food and underneath my electric bill. It will probably say something like, “Purple Llama. Tuesday.” And once again, I’ll spend the next hour trying to figure out what Past Me was so excited about.

I suppose I should start using one of those fancy note-taking apps everyone recommends. Of course, first I’d have to remember the password.

Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing mysteries so much. I’m in training every day because my brain apparently writes checks my memory can’t cash.

* Tell me about how you stay organized. I probably won’t use it, but I will be impressed!