Losing keys and patience

I spent two hours last night searching the entire house for my car/house keys. No luck.  With daylight came another ninety minute search - including the dustbin, twice!  Twice because the thing about crab paste pots is they have lids exactly the same colour as my key fob. Hmmm, so  although it was a horrible search - that tiny glimpse of burgundy meant another five minutes breathing through my ears and prodding unmentionables with a stick. Let us just say I now itch.....that psychological itching which no soap or shampoo can touch!

And where were the keys in the end? Who was responsible for their disappearance? Let me give you a clue - a photo for you:

Butter wouldn't melt?  Probably not. But the little beggar had nabbed my keys and hidden them down the side of her bed mattress. Aaaargh!! Which brings a whole new thought to ponder:

You know you sometimes see on the news that whilst the police have not actually caught the terrorists, they have *seized* a zillion pounds of explosives and bomb making equipment?  Well that is how this feels with Emilie. I KNOW she had a plan - something big. Something like using the keys at 3am and buggering off. Probably in our car for a nice trip into next doors flower beds! But we didn't catch her in the act, so all we can do is wait for her next move.  Aaaaargh!

Funny thing was, when we found them her grin was both lovely (it truly was a huge smile) and endearing. We couldn't tell her off. She wouldn't understand anyway.

So there we have it, the keys now live on this pink hot-water-bunny we have (which you put in the microwave to warm up - that can't be right that, surely?) and which lives behind a lockable kitchen cupboard door. To exit the house, we now have to engage in security Wormwood Scrubs would consider excessive. But the thing is, terrorist cells never give up do they? They just bide their time. Waiting...........

Thanks for reading!  :-)