My Kindle

"There!" Sam exclaims.

"What?"

"There!" He points down the side of the couch with his chin.

He needed a torch to show me what he'd found.

I look to where the torch was pointing.

"What?"

"There," he repeats, like that clearly, um, clears it up.

"Oh, great."

There was my Kindle, down the side of the couch, between the bookcase and the side table.

"See!"

"Thanks honey, you are great."

"I knew I'd find it first try," says Sam triumphantly. I guess that was proof of something, which escaped me right at that moment.

"Well, no, I didn't look down there," I say. I hoped with a tone that indicated that my very actions were that of a reasonable man. i.e. nobody would have looked there.

And, I don't think Sam could quite understand why I hadn't found it, in the slit of a space between heavy furniture in the dark, almost entirely obscured.

I didn't know why I didn't find it down there either.

Of course, it is Sam who takes my Kindle and puts it on the side table next to the couch out of the way when he cleans. The same side table our bulldog just loved to climb under when he was a 10 kilo puppy, which now he can only fit under by causing volcano like vibrations as he squeezes his 30 kilo body through the same space, causing everyone to make a grab for whatever is on the coffee table before it all hits the floor, but I didn't mention that, I was just pleased to get my kindle back.