Go and tidy your room!

So the PuddleDaddy stands blankly in the middle of the room saying "Where on earth is my Chinese Orbital Bauxite Grouter?" and a PuddleMummy-ish voice comes from the kitchen "Where you left it, dear".

The next day, he's standing in front of the washing machine going "But I know I left my Omega-rich Reusable Lettuce Inverter here", but he doesn't find it. Meanwhile, the Puddlekiddie is rifling through the cutting/sticking artbox saying "Oi, who's swiped my 2.7 Giga-Dipthong Defibrillation Magnets?" and a PuddleMummy-ish voice comes through from the sofa saying "I haven't touched them, dear".

I'm sure we have all experienced this confusing situation, where deep in your heart you know it was there yesterday, but because you frequently have trouble remembering your own name, you don't want to push it. So gradually the lost object fades from reality, leaving only a transient frown upon your face. This is what the evil Mummy wants, and she knows that because she won the argument about where you'd left the car that time in Launceston, that you won't chance your arm again and she'll be rid of that Reconditioned Minoan Deer-hide Coracle once and for all.

The problem is, the evil Mummy craves tidiness. Any Kiddie will tell you this is impossible until they have left for University, but there you are. So they identify a terrible mess (which is, of course, a roomful of carefully positioned vital works-in-progress), scour the room in a whirlwind of righteousness, and the offending article (which bears a close resemblance to a piece of rubbish) is in the binbag, on the lorry, and in the landfill before you can say "Where have you put my Lithuanian Flangeless Resin Turbidifier?" The Daddy cannot be absolutely sure that he didn't put it somewhere else (even though 3 full searches of the house have failed to find it) because it was more than 24 hours ago. The Mummy knows she hasn't touched your stuff, for she only cleared the 'rubbish' away. And without habeas corpus, there is no proof.

Thus we mourn the tragic passing of

1. My bag of special permanent pens I'm not allowed to use and the pot of mouse-balls (last seen under a snowdrift of partly-used paper on the dining table)
2. My swimming bag and orange swimming hat (last seen drying on the chair in the utility room, like always)
3. My entire collection of number and speaking rocks (last seen in a Sainsbury's bag in the conservatory)
4. Possibly many other items I have forgotten, like the "Disappeared" of Chile.

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What a lovely day for an equinox, let's have one more often. Cycled to Lidl to buy more of those vitaminated juices that Erin likes and took only 10 more minutes to beat Bud at Monopoly, I ended up with £5232 which is less than last time.