where's the projector?

I had everything unpacked and organised. Tent up. Mattress inflated. Regular clothing and cold-weather items in the tent. Bike and accessories ready to go (although I still had the slicks on). When a creeping, ugly feeling rummaged around in my belly. Where is it? Where's the small black canvas bag?

I played back the loading of Kiron's car from my foyer. No... didn't remember seeing it then. I certainly had not spotted it in his car while unpacking. Where was it? Where could it be? It had been with the camping gear in the garage the night before. That I remembered clearly. So where had it gone between—

Oh no. Oh oh. I remembered, slowly, the sequence, from the morning routine. I had gotten thrown off, when Kiron needed more time, and I decided to do a little shuffle of items from the garage. I had picked up the black projector bag, concerned about it falling or getting bumped, and put it on my car, the black beauty, leaning it against the windshield. And, in my rushing, in this departure from my original plan, I missed it, when I scanned the garage, missed it, black on black, trying to be efficient, and worrying about the garage being secure while I would be away.

It was Kiron's fault. Yeah! I blame him! ;-)

Damn. No easy way to get it now. Not without involving Malcolm and some complex logistics.

I phoned Tony, back in the city, tail between my legs, and asked him to bring the other projector. They were due late Thursday night.