You leave no cushion unturned. You search the house until you’re in a state, roaring internally (and perhaps externally) with frustration. You waste ten minutes and a load of energy.
Eventually you give up the hunt – that important form you were filling out has disappeared into the ether. Sulking, you put the kettle on and plonk yourself in front of the TV.
Then you finally hear it – that quiet voice inside. It was talking to you all along, telling you that the form was in your back pocket the whole time – right where you put it when that charity collector knocked on the door.