T his is a parable. I give it to you in all humility. I've just moved. Well, not exactly; I moved in November but I was only in my new flat for a couple of weeks before work took me away for the whole of December. Then I spent Christmas and Hogmanay in Scotland with friends.
So I didn't get to start organising myself and a thousand cardboard boxes until halfway through January. It took me the best part of three weeks for the inside of the flat not to look like a garage lock-up.
I went through every box to see what I could chuck, realised there was nothing that wasn't important, and then squeezed all the boxes into the two storage cupboards I have and in the loft (after I'd screwed down the flooring). Then I took them all out, organised them in a more rational manner and put them back. You know the story; we've all done this before.
And you'll probably recognise this as well. There was one vital piece of equipment that I need all the time and I couldn't find it. In my case it was the microphone I use for recording Essex hip hop.
It's the only one I've got and it's a good one. It wasn't in the box with the mixer even though all the other cables were there.
I checked I hadn't put it in one of the desk drawers to no avail and then began to think back.
I thought hard to when the boxes were still stacked in the living room. I tried to remember which one it might have been in but my mind was so cluttered with memories of a thousand boxes I couldn't think at all.
Desperately (I've got work to do with it), I spent last week taking every box out of the storage cupboards, checking them, to no avail, and putting them back again. I returned to the loft. The microphone wasn't there.
Then, all of a sudden, something flashed through my head; I might have put it safe in a kitchen drawer so I wouldn't lose it. After weeks of fretting I opened the drawer. It wasn't there. I still don't know where it is.
Sometimes you just have to wait.