A merry little diversion

So, not a lot of progress in the grand scheme of things today. The plumber couldn't book the inspection until tomorrow, and we still haven't heard from the hardware store about our doors, though they were supposed to have arrived today.

However, we did manage to complete ONE task successfully...

A while ago, I noticed that I couldn't find one of my key rings. It wasn't a particularly large key ring, as it held only a copy of the War Department's truck key, and a key to the padlocks on the garage and garden shed. (I keep the keys I use everyday on a separate ring, which is probably a good thing.) I figured it would turn up sooner or later, and merely used the War Department's keys whenever I needed to drive the truck or gain access to the garage.

Well, around about Sunday morning, we started to think about it and realized that neither of us had seen my spare keys in at least a couple of weeks. Given that copies of the truck key are rather expensive, we figured we should make an all out effort to find my wayward set.

We cleaned pretty much the entire house on Sunday, scouring the place from top to bottom as we searched for my stupid keys. At one point, I thought that it might, just maybe, be possible that I had thrown them out accidentally. I had worn a rather sizable hole in a pair of work jeans, and tossed them into a big black garbage bag after a long day of digging (what else?). If they weren't anywhere in the house, they could conceivable be in the pocket of the jeans. Of course, I had later used that garbage bag as a receptacle for the contents of the litter boxes, and was fairly certain that bag was well on its way to the landfill.

Not really wanting to entertain the possibility that I was stupid enough to have thrown out a pair of jeans without emptying the pockets first (let alone divesting them of such a precious cargo as keys), I started by opening and rummaging through every one of the eighteen (slight exaggeration) toolboxes scattered through the garage and basement. No luck.

I then turned my attention to the workbench (pictured here previously), and tidied up every jar of junk, every loose tool, every half roll of tape. No sign of the keys.

We vaccuumed, dusted, scrubbed, and washed every flat or vertical surface upstairs, and followed it with a close, flashlight-assisted investigation of every hollow, nook, and cranny under all the furniture. No keys.

We kept up the search, rather half-heartedly, over the next three days, moving the odd bit of furniture, dashing off to search an area that we thought we might have forgotten, and generally starting to think about writing the whole endeavour off as a bad deal and heading down to the car dealership to get another key cut.

Well, as I was farting around outside with the angle grinder tonight, I noticed a big black garbage bag full of construction debris and other detritus from the renovations. Wondering if perhaps my recollecting of engulfing the old jeans in kitty litter was mistaken, I worked open the knot and poked about in the garbage. Sadly, there was no sign of my old jeans (though I did find an old pair of shoes and some of the War Department's discarded clothing). Tying up the bag again, I started thinking. I was pretty sure I HAD dumped kitty litter over the old jeans. I was also pretty sure I had moved a bag full of kitty litter out of our garbage cans over the weekend in order to clean out the cans. I was also reasonabbly sure that I had stashed the bag in the empty garbage cans of the house next door, whose occupants had moved out some weeks ago and whose landlord had not yet rented it.

Well, in the neighbour's garbage can, underneath a pair of old pizza boxes (hey, you try digging for four days and see if YOU still feel like cooking) was a big black garbage bag.

I poked it experimentally. Yep. Feels like kitty litter.

I squeezed one of the bulges. Hmmm. Feels a bit like cloth.

I worked the knot loose and, holding my breath, peered inside. Yep. Kitty litter and an old pair of jeans.

Gingerly, I pulled up on the corner of the jeans (and thanked my lucky stars that it was the waistband). I stuck my hand in the first pocket.

I really shouldn't have done that.

I pulled the pocket open and peered inside. Kitty litter. I pulled open the next pocket and peered inside. Kitty litter. Same with the next pocket.

With one pocket left to go, I didn't like my chances. But nevertheless, I pulled open the pocket and peered inside. Kitty litter.

And a set of rather dirty keys.








In my defence, I was really tired when I threw out those pants. I mean, REALLY tired.