Looking for Toothpaste

Nothing worse than the alarm in the mornings. Lie in bed for an hour before, half-awake, knowing that that infernal vibrating and beeping tune will go off. Keep checking the time -40 minutes, 20 minutes... 10 minutes...
Then the alarm.
The bed is the most comfortable place in the world.
Get dressed, then down the landing to the bathroom. Have to push the bathroom door hard to get it to shut, then scrape the lock across. More harsh sounds. The trickling water has little in the way of power. At least it is warm this morning.
Then back to the bedsit room; Put on the kettle, look for the hairbrush, look for the toothpaste.
I dread looking for my toothpaste. It is one of those mysteries that I never think about after 8:30 in the morning when I leave the house and start the walk to work. Every morning, without fail, the toothpaste will be in some new and puzzling place.
This morning it was behind the television, nestled amongst the wires and scartleads.
I have no idea why.