The Case of the Missing Tape Measure

I currently buy a new tape measure at an average of one a week. That’s what the receipts are saying.

Sometimes it’s the store brand, something hanging around the cash register that’s within arm’s length and reasonably priced.

Occasionally, it’s got a brand name emblazoned across it. It’s Japanese or German… I’m not fussy. They are much of a muchness.

But because Milwaukee and I have been in a relationship – professional, I assure you – since the early 1980s, that was the brand of the most recent of tape measures to arrive at the Kerr house.

Handsome thing. You can see from the photo.

Except it’s gone. It might be a bright colour, and near new, but that counts for nothing in this moment. It’s disappeared, exactly like its predecessors.

This red beauty was there a couple of hours ago, and now, whfft!

Outwardly, a tape measure’s task, their sole skill, is straight forward. They furnish a to-the-millimetre calculation of the distance between here and there. I repeat: here and there.

But the just-now vanishing of just-the-latest of its kind reinforces my belief that tape measures actually have a secret competence, a remarkable ability to disappear.

It’s like a superpower.

And it’s a talent only exceeded by their ability to disappear at exactly the moment they’re needed.

I mean, it was here a moment ago, okay? I saw it.

Sorry that I’m shouting. I need to take a breath, think things through. Slowly, retrace my steps.

I’m focussed on my tape measure, but I now realise its close friend, the carpenter’s pencil, is also gone.

You know, the big guy, so fat he has his own special sharpener? Impossible to miss, except now he’s missing?

How does this happen? What are the chances these two, measure and marker, have dematerialized at the same time? And are they together? If I find one, will I find the other?

But hang on. This carpenter’s pencil is only the most recent to vamoose. I’ve purchased entire fistfuls of these things over the years, and as I look around, there’s no sign they ever existed.

Not so much as the scratching of lead on a wall.

Maybe pencil has just gone to join his friends. God knows, there’s a million of them out there.

Wherever there is.

The more I think about it, the more I’m beginning to suspect that other place might also be the new home of my laser level, a nice little Bosch.

This is one of those tools that’s just too expensive to forget, to mentally put aside and just go buy another one. And it’s on the list, missing in action.

It was here, right here!

Sorry. Shouting again.

And while I’m thinking about it, I can’t find the Dremel, a tool designed for fiddly, closeup sanding jobs. One day here, next day another dimension.

Adhesive gun is also on the list. I ought to have a hundred of these things, but can I find a single one?

The gun is gone, gone, gone.

Come to think of it, it’s not just tools on this AWOL list. There are multiple household items that are no longer here. They’ve gone walkabout. Sorfed. Departed these shores.

Pens – blue, black and red mostly – that I remember having in my hand one minute, and the next, they… weren’t.

Speaking of hands, where are the nail clippers? Just had ‘em! But then there was that whfft sound again.

Glasses, sun- and otherwise? No, not on my head. Now I’ve got that problem known to all who wear glasses… how can I look for my glasses without my glasses?

This is not going well. The list is just getting longer.

Tape measure knew the difference between here and there. He was here, but decided there was better. Perhaps he also decided to take some friends and acquaintances with him, so they are now there too.

Maybe they’re together, the tools from the workshop and those from the house, all the pens and clippers and such.

Look. I’m just hoping that you may have seen them.

Here’s a photo of the red Milwaukee tape; it was the last time I saw him around here, so it’s kind of special to me.

If you see him somewhere in your travels, I’d appreciate you letting me know.

He might be hanging out with pencil, sunglasses and the rest, so maybe keep an eye out for a little gang of them?

And if you do see one or all, tell them clearly, loudly: Go home! Go home now! Now!

Mike needs you.