Sad to say, it was the Sage’s turn to lose keys today. However, since I may sound critical of him later, I shall finish the story of my lost key yesterday.
When I arrived home last night, the Sage was already cooking dinner. He came to greet me, looking a bit anxious. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Fine,” I answered. “I nearly didn’t make it, though.” He looked quite shocked, so I hastened to reassure – I meant, of course, that I nearly didn’t even leave home. It wasn’t until he heard my story that he delicately told me that he arrived home to find the doors open. “What, actually open? Not just unlocked?” Yes. I realised, and explained, that when I went to try the key (from a different car) in the ignition, I hadn’t expected it to work. When it did, I must just have driven off, forgetting that the house was left open to the world. I was quite embarrassed, but the Sage was more relieved that there was a logical, though rather foolish, explanation.
Anyway, tonight he couldn’t find the key to the toolshed. He’d last had it a week ago, when coal was delivered – the key to the coalshed is on the same tally, as are several other keys. We always keep this group of keys in the same place. We always have, for 24 years. “It has been put in the wrong place,” observed the Sage, irresponsibly.
He found them in the end, of course. They were in a jacket pocket.
The rule is, when something is mislaid, the first place to look is the pockets of every jacket in the house.