Where’s My . . . ?

Sometimes work grinds to a halt until a missing tool is found. Quite often, the searcher “just had it in my hand a minute ago!” Hammer, drill, and measuring tape seem to be the most lost-and-found items. However, one morning before most people were even up, DH says to me, “I can’t find the drill bit I was using yesterday!” “Where’d you leave it?” “On the kitchen table.” My heart sank. One corollary to Murphy’s Law specific to Purdyville is that nothing of value is safe on the kitchen table. You just don’t put anything there that you don’t want to get lost, stolen, mutilated, wet, dirty, greasy or mistaken for scrap paper and used as the toddler’s canvas for her most recent masterpiece. That’s right, the drill bit was nowhere to be found, even though it was put “right here, just last night!” After much searching and scrounging, a different set of bits was found, that had if not the same size, then close enough.

Several hours later, I was getting ready to pour a bucket of dishwater down the toilet, when I heard a metallic rattling sound. “Oh, no, someone left a teaspoon in there,” I thought. So I poured very, very carefully, and found–you guessed it–the missing drill bit at the bottom of the bucket. (Since we are still living under drought conditions, we save the dish water from the dish pan in a bucket and use it to flush the toilet.)