OK - I was clearly TIRED when I got home last night...

...after the wedding of plaid_dragon and losthismarbles, which went off without a hitch... well, with them getting hitched, but without... oh, heck, you know what I mean. They successfully boggled me both by actually buying me a present for ... erm, services rendered, and because it was not only a bottle of a single malt I didn't have, it was one I'd never even HEARD of! Very nice, too, but seeing them get married was a better present by far.

So. I get home. I pour myself a dram from the present. We sit down and chill for the rest of the evening.

Somewhere in this process, my subconscious clearly went, "Mike, the pocket of your good suit is a bad place to leave your keys. Why don't you move them into your Yahoo! fleece so you can find them next time you need them." And obediently, I did so, and completely forgot I'd done so.

Cue church this morning. Check jeans pocket for keys. No, they won't be in there, you fool, you were wearing a suit yesterday and besides these are clean on.

Suit trousers? No.

Suit jacket? No.

Swear a lot. Hand James his leather jacket, put mine on, check its pocket. No.

Heck with it. Go out front door, taking front door keys off hook.

Return home, check everywhere. Swear. Phone Anne, ask her to check her car. Get, understandably, sworn at, as this would not be the first time I've lost keys.

I also, to compound matters, am rigging lights for church on Monday. Lights are locked in my car. AND I'm meeting someone at 7.30 this evening to collect a box of books.

Anne, eventually, gets home. Searches all the places I've looked (as she usually does). And then produces them from my fleece pocket.

I suppose it's a change from the bottom of her handbag.