Where angels fear to tread

It's nearly midnight and I'm looking for my passport.

I go to the place it usually lives. It isn't there. Hmmm, this has happened before, I hope I haven't put it 'somewhere safe'.

When did I last have it? I know that, it was early April, when I needed something as proof of identity. I remember looking at it, and realising that I'll need a new one next year, and will have to have one of those horrid electronic pics.

Where did I put it after that? Is it with all the other papers from that time. I check. No, it isn't! I have to find it now. I can't go to bed, as I won't sleep. I check drawers, and cupboards, and other papers. No joy.

I was sitting on the sofa last time I remember having it. Maybe it's slipped down the side of the sofa. I decide to check. This means moving the girls, who are curled up for the night. Bella gives me a baleful glance and jumps down onto the floor. I check her side first. Lots of biros, two pairs of scissors, a compact mirror, and sweet wrappers. No passport.

The other side means moving Rosie, and she's not happy about this. More biros, even a small novel, but again, no passport. I check the bookshelf alongside the sofa. I've done this once, but check again, and there it is, in the middle of a stack of books.

If I was tidier and actually put things away, life would be a lot less stressful!