Posted by: geonarcissa | May 20, 2009

Lost GPS Drama

Whenever I lose something in the house, I feel ridiculous – my favourite hobby is looking for cleverly concealed and camouflaged containers in the woods, but I can’t find my glasses for two days if I set them down on wrong side of the bathroom counter before bed. I have a grocery bag full of individual socks, because I can’t find their mates.

In a case of perfect situational irony, yesterday I found myself conducting a thorough grid-search of my father’s house in search of my trusty Magellan eXplorist 500.

I had strapped Wigglebottoms (my endearing, yet mischevious son) into the car and hopped into the driver’s seat, ready to grab a couple of quick finds before settling in with my family to watch a hockey game. As I was about to drive off, I realized that my GPS was still in the house, so I ran inside to get it.

The GPS was not on the coffee table where I had left it.

Somewhere from within my subconscious a vivid image struck me – that of a cheerful, dimpled face toddling in the direction of the kitchen, my GPS in hand. With a sigh, I walked through the upstairs level of the house, following the little’s guy’s usual path of destruction.

I couldn’t find the GPS anywhere. I enlisted Dad’s help, and he couldn’t find it either.

Not under the couch cushions. Not in the kitchen drawers. Not in the freezer that he insists on opening and closing all day long. Not in the pantry he likes to empty. Not in the linen closet he was digging through earlier this morning. Not in my purse. Not in anybody’s shoes, where I often find Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends stashed.

Back to the car I went, unbuckled the wee suspected thief, and marched him into the house with a firm order: “Find Mummy’s GPS!” With a cheerful yet purposeful expression, he led me into the kitchen, reached up onto a cabinet and pulled out… a cribbage board. Hrrm. I searched the top of the cabinet, took everything out of the cabinet, but didn’t find the GPS.

Dad and I searched and searched, to no avail, until it was nearly time for the hockey game to start. I was starting to get pretty upset – spending the rest of my vacation without a GPS? How tragic!

Now in full crisis mode, I called my mother for advice and moral support. She’s an expert at finding things, and an expert at helping me calm down when I’m upset.  Her words were comforting, somewhat. “You know it’s in the house. You’ll find it. Just try to think like he thinks.”

After supper, hockey, and American Idol on the other side of town, we returned to Dad’s house shortly before midnight and immediately resumed the search. We went through the garbage and the recycling. Emptied every laundry basket in the house. Searched every nook and cranny of every couch and chair.

I kept thinking about the way my little boy led me to the kitchen cabinet when I asked him to find the GPS, so I decided to take another look at the cabinet. Once again, I searched the top, and searched the inside. I looked at the cribbage board, and thought about the way Monkey Child had showed it to me: he had pulled it out and then used it to poke at various objects on the cabinet while I searched.

A light went on in my head. There was a small gap between the cabinet and the wall…

I pulled the cabinet out from the wall, and looked behind. Success! And relief. *phew*

I should look into attaching those key-finder devices to all of my portable electronic devices.

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