A recipe for mess

Few things are certain in life. There is death, of course, and there is the irrefutable fact that your keys will go missing when you are in a hurry, or when you are doing something a bit naughty.

On Wednesday I was doing both, so it stands to reason that I would lose two sets of keys in the same incident.

It's actually quite unusual for me to lose keys. I hate routine but for some reason I am a real creature of habit with my keys. If they are not hanging in their home in the back of the door, they will be somewhere completely bizarre, like the refrigerator.

On Wednesday I took a work car out while I went door-knocking down a street in Avondale. It was one of those needle-in- haystack jobs but I was feeling uncharacteristically confident that I would find the needle.

As it turned out, all I found was a street full of properties with a penchant for barking dogs and healthy lemon trees.

I'd issued myself a secret challenge not to return to the office until I had some clues to the story but I lasted about an hour, six dogs and 14 lemon trees before I gave up caring.

As a treat, but mainly because my sense of direction is crap, I ended up driving back to work via the Super Shed. I really love the Super Shed. The plan was simple. I would whiz in, buy a mirror and drop it off at home. I would do all this so fast that no-one in power at work would know about my extra- curricular business.

I should have known that the unwritten law of Being Beck Eleven would kick in.

I unlocked my front door and dumped the mirror in the hallway.

Was I really in such a hurry, I wondered? As far as work was concerned, I could be knocking on five more doors. I relaxed enough to realise I was busting but spending that particular penny ended up costing me quite a lot - even in today's money.

I couldn't find my house keys to lock up behind me. Anyone who has entered my house knows it is small, tiny, petit, bijou. The potential for key loss is minor at best.

But using a brain mangled with panic because I'd already wasted time buying an unnecessary mirror, I gave all the surfaces in my house a Boy Look, which everyone knows is useless and illogical. I resorted to searching using the more fruitful Girl Look and found them on the washing machine, which I can't even remember going near.

So, I locked the house and dashed to the car. Now bear in mind I was driving a work issue car and I'd left it in my driveway, unlocked. I assumed I'd left the keys in the ignition because I was only planning on being three seconds but the ignition was empty. Now I am neck-deep in panic and reeling off scenarios, none of which resulted in continued employment with The Press.

So, once again I re-traced my steps through the house but no key materialised. After 10 minutes I came to accept that I was going to have to call work to explain that I had lost some car keys on the job.

I would then have to explain that the "job" was at my home address. As I dragged myself back to the car to get my mobile phone I found the car keys on the grass.

Disaster mildly averted. Mildly.

I think perhaps I cracked the mirror while dumping it in the hallway.

- © Fairfax NZ News