After arriving home from the party last night I continued to become a little more intoxicated. Now this morning, a little hung over, I cannot find my GPS. I ransacked the house (albeit in somewhat obfuscated state) and when I reached the point of looking in all the places I had already looked in a few minutes earlier, I accepted my folly and gave it up. I do know it's in the house, because I clearly remember playing with it late last night, so I am confident it will turn up. In the interim, I will have to continue using the maps I have relied on all my life, and which indeed I had to yesterday as well.
No, what I'm most concerned about is confessing my stupidity to my wife. As I write these words she is in mid-air, perhaps somewhere over eastern Europe on her way back to Heathrow. Hopefully her joy at returning home safely will outweigh her irritation with the idiocy of a berk like me.
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