« How to cheat good | Main | Travelling? Get the best exchange rate »
June 24, 2006
On misplacing things
We're pretty sure it was just after lunch on Wednesday when we noticed the latest casualty in our unconscious war on objects. We were standing on the doorstep of chez Bleeding Edge at the time, having just returned from a quick steak sandwich at one of the local cafes. We put our hand into our right trouser pocket and discovered that the front door key, and the collection of other keys, garage door lifter, LCD torch etc that we keep on a fat key ring wasn't there.
It wasn't in the left trouser pocket, either. It wasn't in either coat pocket. It wasn't in the shoulder bag in which, like many journalists, we carry important tools of our trade: notebooks, pens, pocket shorthand dictionary etc. It was, we suspected, somewhere on the other side of that door.
We presumed that, as part of our usual meticulous practices in preparing to go out, we'd forgotten to pick up the keyring. We don't always forget these keys. Sometimes we instead forget the mobile phone, particularly when we're expecting an urgent call, but we forget the keys frequently enough to have gained an intimate familiarity with all the features of our front porch, while pacing up and down in a mixture of fury and despair.
Fortunately, having grown tired of the consequences of this routine oversight, we'd recently bought one of those devices that allows you to keep a spare key outside, in a small chamber protected by a combination lock. So, rather than standing outside in the cold waiting for one of the more responsible members of the family to rescue us, we opened the gadget, retrieved the key and let ourselves into the house.
What we should have done, right then, was conduct a search for these errant keys. Unfortunately our tiny little mind got absorbed in various distractions, and the effort of meeting the weekly column deadline, so it wasn't until about 7pm that night, when we were - how often does this happen? - running late for a table tennis competition, that we remembered the missing keys. A frantic search of the usual places of concealment didn't uncover them, so we were forced to use a spare car key. Unfortunately we didn't have a spare garage door lifter, so we lost more time manually opening and closing the garage door, and maintained our record for late arrivals.
The team had a rare victory that night, so we weren't particularly irritated, when we got home, to have to park in the rear laneway, walk around to the front to retrieve the spare key from the chamber - we were becoming more grateful for its existence by the minute - let ourselves in the front door, walk through to the rear garage and open the garage door etc.
What we should have done, of course, when we were back inside, was immediately institute a search for the missing keys. That way, we would have avoided the last-minute panic on Thursday morning when we again [SIGH] couldn't find the keys.
Fortunately the Bleeding Edge spouse was home when we returned, just after mid-day, so we were able to phone from the back lane, and get her to open the garage door. Her presence was crucial, too, to the next phase in our strategy in these matters ... blame someone else for hiding the missing object. We'd convinced ourselves that she must have picked up our key ring by mistake, and left it in her handbag, but alas she must have disposed of the evidence. We couldn't find a trace of them in her bag, on her desk, in her coat pockets etc. We couldn't find them in any of our coat pockets either. We ransacked the entire house. Upturned the interior of the car. Inspected the dog's bedding, explored all manner of fantastic scenarios. But. Couldn't. Find the damned keys.
On Friday night, when we came home in the evening to prepare linguine alle vongole for the Bleeding Edge daughter and son-in-law, we found ourselves back on the front porch again, as a result of establishing the weak point in our strategic positioning of that external key chamber, with its little combination lock. We'd ingeniously placed it in a position where - in the hours of darkness - we couldn't read the numbers on those little combination wheels.
Rang the Bleeding Edge daughter to discover she was 20 minutes or so away. We were going to get even more familiar with our porch. It only occurred to us, as we hung up the phone, and the little light went out, that the illuminated screen might just give us enough light to negotiate the combination lock. We must have looked a little odd, holding the phone up to the combination lock as if to let it make a call, but - joy oh joy - it worked. We were in!
Is there anything more pathetic, we wondered, on Saturday morning, as we went back to the cafe where we'd had that steak sandwich, than someone begging a waiter to please look for some missing property? He couldn't find it, of course. They put all lost property in their till, and it wasn't there. Somebody else's lost key was there, however, so if you've had a steak sandwich recently, and haven't been able to get into your car, you might like to check with them.
Back home we went. We wrote on the back of an envelope all the movements we'd made during the week. Had we perhaps lost the keys on Tuesday night? No. We'd driven home that night and hadn't had any problems getting in to the garage. It had to have happened on Wednesday. But on Wednesday, the only place we'd gone was to the cafe, and they didn't have any keys.
What had we been wearing that day? We checked the wardrobe and discovered that an overcoat was missing. We don't often wear that overcoat, but we had a vague recollection of putting it on once during the week. Hmmn. Is there anything more pathetic, we wondered, as we once more walked back up to Fitzroy St, than someone begging the waiter if by any chance at all, they happened to have a missing overcoat. As a matter of fact, up there on top of a cupboard, there was an overcoat. Bleeding Edge's overcoat. And in the pocket, guess what we found?
Posted by cw at June 24, 2006 12:59 PM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://bleedingedge.com.au/cgi-bin/mt/mt-tb.cgi/942
Comments
2 doors out of the house with screen doors, busy Sunday, Monday morning, keys hanging for rear door locked behind screen door, keys for front door locked behind front screen door, normal keys in front door, not that I could see them of course. It wasn't a credit card trick but equivalent to open the front door and start accessing keys, you have my sympathy, Bangar.
Posted by: Bangar at June 24, 2006 08:04 PM
That is an epic tale - well done finding them! Sony Ericsson K750i comes with a built-in LED light, quite handy.
Posted by: raoul at June 24, 2006 11:09 PM
I would love to hear what Mrs Bleeding Edge said when you passed this tale onto her ;)
Posted by: Chris at June 26, 2006 03:49 PM
You have not taken into account the strange behaviour of certain inanimate objects. Missing socks and multiplying coathangers to mention but two.
Keys are well known to move from the pocket you have securely placed them to the most inconvenient location. I have even experienced them moving back on to the hook in the kitchen when I know I have taken them with me out to the car. Other times include carrying a box of groceries into the house. The keys will have moved from my reachable pocket sometimes as far away as the bottom of the grocery box.
Posted by: steven ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://bleedingedge.com.au/blog/nav-commenters.gif)
at June 27, 2006 11:32 AM
Douglas Adams, in his book "A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", identified an inconsequential planet where the only life forms were intelligent biros. This was where all biros went after they disappeared from you desk or pocket. Astronomers face the challenge of discovering the planet where car keys, odd socks and, in my case, wallets disappear to. Or is there a gene on the male DNA strand that causes the problem in the first place? There's a Nobel Prize waiting to be collected.
Posted by: Roger at June 27, 2006 02:18 PM