Lost.

No, not the television series that wandered around vaguely for a million episodes, looking for a plot.  My car keys.  The annoying thing is, it happened because of being good.

I decided with the S&H off in the distance that the time was ripe to do a major clear out.  Not yet of all his stuff in the loft, the garage and his bedroom, floor to ceiling.  There’s a strong possibility that what I’m doing is displacement tidying.  Whatever the catalyst I had the urge to chuck out and started in my bedroom.  There is a Japanese tidying lady who has gone thoroughly viral who asserts that you should remove clothing from your wardrobe, thank it for its service to you, and, asking your self if it makes you joyful or not, either keep or chuck it with much respect.

I started that way but mightily soon segued into : What was I thinking!  Good grief, I actually wore this!  I have never thought of myself as a fashion victim, I thought I had style.  I have.  It’s mainly naff.

Anyway a few hours of this sort of activity had produced a massive pile of bin bags full of clothes which I drove down to the charity shop.  I returned, walked up the drive and into the house, and for Lo!  My car keys turned up missing precisely then.  I cannot have given them to the charity shop because I drove home.  I did not go out again because my root canal filling said to sit in a chair and feel sorry for myself, which I did.  Therefore the keys are in this house somewhere.

There’s a place for us, somewhere a place for us…………….is it the clean and tidy wardrobe?  I threw everything on the floor this morning, searching.  I found fluff and polystyrene packaging peanuts but no keys.

My next places to look are the drawers under the bed, where I put all the winter coats, the counter top between the kitchen and the dining room that is one of the vacuums that nature abhors and after that……….I dunno.  I’ve already done down the sides of the chairs.  I’ve already done the front garden, in the process of which I mowed half the lawn before the lawn mower seized up, made a funny smell, emitted copious smoke and died.

I’m lost for places to look.  They will, of course, be in the last place I look for them, which won’t be Cleopatra’s tomb, though I will look everywhere else –  I am getting a very tidy bedroom, or it will be when I put everything back.

After all of which the S&H airily appeared last night with business in Birmingham and a suitcase full of washing.  He will be off after a couple of days, apparently, no doubt with a suitcase full of clean clothes.

I wish I could get clean clothes that easily.  I wish I could find my car keys.  I wish I could find a nice cheap new lawn mower.  I wish it had packed up after it had mowed all the lawn and not half way through.  I wish my mother didn’t want us to go for Easter because I’d rather the S&H and his bride came here and I do wish I could shift this last couple of pounds off my legs.

But most of all I wish I could find my car keys.

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JaneLaverick.com – if wishes were horses, I’d be driving.