What it's for

On what had to be the best day of vacation recently, Jay had purchased for me a small mosaic dish.  It turned out the name of the small shop was called Paradise House and I thought at the time how the name was so very appropriate.  The place, and not just the shop, has always been that for me, a paradise, a get-away, a perfect spot to do nothing while doing what I need to do most.  That particular day had turned out particularly amazing.  It was everything I could have hoped for and more.  The fact that it was relaxed and easy and that Jay bought me this simple catch-all for paper clips and what-not that he said would look good here in my office upstairs was so pleasantly wonderful.  It was truly an all around best day.
Since that day the past week and a half, there have been so many things that have happened.  Or maybe I'm confused.  It's seems to have been stock piled high with activity but my short term memory is not serving me very well.  I'm remembering certain things yet others I'm not sure about.  Did I do that or did I hear that wrong?  Am I forgetting something or oh, yeah, you did tell me that...I forgot.  Ordinarily I would just chalk it up to my advanced age and diminishing brain cells.  That would seem to be the most logical diagnosis.  Then I'm not so sure and think it might very well be because of what happened a week and a half ago.  I know I had to search my memory banks when I saw the small mosaic dish again.  I snapped a picture of it to prove it was really there.  When I saw it, I had that blank, lapse of memory about when and how it had arrived at that spot.  It took me by surprise when I saw it and had to think hard.
I had done it but it didn't come to me right away.  Somehow in all the confusion of a car with belongings scattered everywhere and every which way I had recovered a brown paper bag with the words Paradise House across the front and shoved it into a suitcase.  One we took with us as everything else was left unretrieved.  I must have done it that very same day we arrived back home while I was unpacking whatever we had with us. 
Then I came up to my office here upstairs the other day and saw the unwrapped contents of that brown paper bag.  At first I could not remember how it got there and it confused me when I saw it, yet it made me feel good.  Because eventually I did remember.
I put it there.  I snatched it up, stowed it away and put it where it should have gone in the first place.  So I could remember that Best Day.  The one before all that other stuff happened.

I think that is what it's for.
TT