The Lost and Found

I lost my keys and needed the key finder I was given at Christmas, but (and you know this is coming) I can’t find the key finder. I need a key finder finder.

So, for a month my keys were gone. That hurts. I had to beg keys from other family members who increasingly had a difficult time disguising their contempt.

“Did you search the couches?” I was asked.

“Of course I did,” I replied and under my breath, “What kind of knucklehead do you think I am?”

But just to be sure, I checked again. Nothing. Didn’t bother with the leather recliner. I never sit in it.

Another man, perhaps one who is not as tight as bark to a tree, as my mother used to say, would have borrowed the needed keys from family members and paid the price to have them reproduced. That is not my way.

So I searched in every imaginable place on our property without any luck at all.

Finally, on Saturday, a smiling family member, sitting in the leather recliner, called my attention to something she was holding in her hand. She had my car keys. They had been buried down in the ridiculous folds of the recliner.

I was happy at the discovery, of course, but also a little taken aback at the triumphant look on the face of the human key finder. She had told me several times to check the furniture. I did not completely follow instructions.

So I had a lengthy period of gloating to put up with, and I had it coming so let ‘er rip. Then that same family member got up from the recliner, walked away and said, “Now if I could only find my phone.” Immediately, I saw the phone, sitting right in the middle of the recliner seat. It had been under her, under her, … well, just under her.

So, lots of ha ha’s all around and all of a sudden I was the gloater and not the gloatee. I was fully enjoying my new status.

Then another family member entered the kitchen from outside and he was filled in on the startling developments of the past few minutes. He laughed derisively at the two family members who, it seemed to him, were degenerating into dottering old fools. I could see this sudden turn was not going to work to my advantage.

Then, I remembered a request this same family member had made of me that very, hot afternoon.

“Do you know where the oscillating fan is?” I was asked, as it was wanted for the shed. “I have searched everywhere. Do we even have one anymore?”

I wandered out to the garage but I knew it wasn’t out there. I was sure we still had one. My mind’s eye started to reveal a location. I went into the bedroom of said family member and there was the fan, sitting atop a bookshelf, where it has sat for over a year.

So, I have lost track of who has gloater privileges in our house and who has none. I don’t know if other homes operate this way, but in ours, it is very important to stay one step ahead of the pack. You never want to look over your shoulder and see them gaining on you.

©2018 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.