Button, button, who's got the smegging button?
Slept from hours of 7 am to 11 this morning, self-caffeinated with vigour, decided to finish the bracelet I made last night. Walked to office for the clasp (a terribly spiffy shank button with a picture of Humphrey Bogart on it). Walked back to bedroom. Sat on bed. Tested button on cuff. Admired work. Removed button from paper backing. Threw away paper and twist-tie. Got up to fetch darning needle. Sat down. Looked around for button. Shook blankets. Peered up sleeve. Checked under bum. Got up. Noted pants' dearth of pockets. Lifted pillows. Poked into trash can. Palpated mattress. Put away stack of books. Upended knitting basket. Sat down. Looked down shirt. Opened laptop. Blogged.
ETA: It was in the trash. Sorry Bogey.
ETA: It was in the trash. Sorry Bogey.