Yesterday, at the end of the working day, I packed my cycle panier in a hurry, and called in at the local supermarket on the way home, loading the panier with groceries.
When it came time to take my evening tablet, I searched the panier and all the places at home where I might have put the tablets – but no luck. Thinking back to my journey home I vaguely remembered a sound that I couldn’t identify around me when I was getting on or off my bike at the supermarket. After more fruitless searching, I was convinced that I must have dropped the tablets outside the shop. I could visualise some inept cramming of items into the panier, and moving stuff about to accommodate the groceries. So that’s when the box of tablets fell, and that must have been the mystery sound I heard before setting off on my bike.
Having convinced myself of these facts, I asked at the supermarket the following morning if any tablets had been handed in, not really expecting a positive answer, and not getting one.
The happy ending to this long-winded yarn is that opening my desk drawer on arrival at work, there were my tablets. But isn’t it strange the reality we create for ourselves out of imagined facts?