Tasked to seek, though not to find
The message came in, early: DING! We had missing jewelry. Without going into details (I am unable, due to my inability to discern colours accurately), I was tasked with making a cursory search of the premises in all the usual places.
And so, I got down to task: checked in, on, under and around the bed. Checked in, on, and beside the bath. I briefly considered involving the dog and put that idea aside. He lost his “family jewels”, early on in our relationship and has never fully forgiven the rest of the household. Even the idea of getting dressed up in his support dog harness was met with a disinterested “mpmf”. I was on my own. And in keeping with my usual success rate, I came up with nothing. This is exactly why I decided not to become a treasure seeker. Shovels cause blisters, and if those lads on Oak Island can be used as a model, there isn’t a lot of treasure out there. Just blisters.
Of course, when she who finds things got home, the missing jewelry was found, within seconds. Maybe this was all just a test, to see if I was ready to join her on a quest. Isn’t that how it works? I could offer to serve as support staff; fetch ropes and baskets, and shovels. Try to identify the booty we find, based on similar images from Google. Send polite requests to nearby galleries and museums, inquiring about missing artefacts, even before the shovel strikes the stone.
Right now, it’s too cold to go ‘a hunting, but the snow must melt (based on statistics going back centuries). Perhaps I will be rich, after all.
