I lose so many things that I was sure they just get up and walk. Perhaps I have never admitted it—even to myself, but I am extremely jealous of people who are so orderly that they never lose anything. Most of my friends always seem to have a place for everything and everything is in its place. I hate comparing myself with them. They have special cupboards for tools, hooks to hang things on and drawers to put things in. It is quite impossible for me to compete. Some things have a terrible habit of disappearing the moment I need them. Pencils and ballpoint pens are never anywhere near the telephone when it rings, no matter how much care I take. Screw-drivers and tin-openers always manage to walk into the garden and, as a result, screws remain loose, and tins remain unopened. Boxes of matches move under the radio, and needles disappear every time I want to sew a button on a shirt. The situation was getting so much out of control that I decided to organize myself. I had a large cupboard put into the kitchen. On the shelves I neatly arranged a number of boxes and tins, the contents of which I clearly printed in ink on the outside. I had one box for pins, another for nails, and a special place for screw-drivers. There was a new address book in one corner so that I could make a note of telephone numbers and addresses. Before this I had always written addresses on bits of paper—which I quickly lost. Soon everything was tidily arranged in its place, from pairs of scissors to cakes of soap and spare lamps. Having made such a sincere attempt to prevent things from running away, I felt very proud of myself. But it was not long before the matches disappeared and the hammer decided to hide itself in the waste-paper basket. I soon got my revenge, however. I had a lock fitted to the cupboard and thus made sure that nothing could escape. This was an admirable solution—until I lost the key to the cupboard. This passage is something written to______.