I am pretty good at losing keys. But I can’t be that good as I always find them. Or did I? [To save you reading this blog the answer is yes, I do still find them.]

I thought today was going to be the day my finding came to an end. This morning before work I was an hour late(r) for work because I was looking for the keys. Full disclosure: I looked for the keys for about half an hour. Then I left, had a look where I got out of a car on Friday and then came back to my flat for a coffee and a bagel. Oh, and a bloody good think about where the keys might be.

In a flat consisting of 6ish rooms* it doesn’t take too long too have a rummage. But a PROPER look? Well that takes the best part of an hour. And although I had an hour this morning it didn’t permit me to have a proper look and a coffee and a bagel. So I had a rummage and a coffee and a bagel.

There was the chance the keys might be at work. They weren’t. There was a chance they were in my colleague’s car – he had given me a lift home on Friday. After an undignified search under the passenger seat I was still keyless.

I returned home to a still pregnant partner. She was saying something about being past her due date and…well I wasn’t listening. I had keys to find. Meticulously I went through the flat. Room-by-room. Spending an unnecessary amount of time looking places where the keys could not possibly seemed like a sensible thing to do to give me peace of mind, “OK the keys are definitely not behind the tiles in the bathroom: I’ve smashed them all off with a hammer etc”

I had just finished checking the pockets of all my suit jackets I haven’t worn this year when I moved on to the living room. Get all the unlikely places out of the way first and then look in places I spend most time and store most things. Logical.

I was also full of sneezes. I haven’t mentioned this yet…but I am allergic to dust. It’s a burden I have carried for 35 years. Such is my allergy that I had to sit on a chair in assembly at primary school (until I got put on the floor after a couple of weeks because I kept messing about on the chair). And there was a lot of dust under the bed – really I don’t know what she’s up to on this so-called maternity leave but it sure as hecker’s pipe isn’t dusting under the bed.

I soldiered on. Through all my shelves of things I haven’t been near since before I lost the keys. Practically the last place I looked was my hospital bag, because I am very prepared for this baby’s arrival – I read 50% of the expectant father book last week. This hospital bag has been at the side of my place on the sofa, open. And I keep tossing things in it, things like keys.

I had checked the bag a couple of times. Definitely thorough, twice this morning. Think maybe my partner had a look too. This time I had one extra thing though – desperation. The desperation to check properly. And as I shook the hoody that was in there the keys fell out of the hood. I was Frodo, but instead of throwing a ring away – I had found some keys.

*what is a room? Does it have to have a door?