It's not the fact of losing one, or even two or three, that's important. The really critical part is where they wound up. That, and how long it took until you located them. After all, ice cubes can do a whole lot of melting if you just lose them long enough.
Take Monday for example. It's not at all unusual for ice cubes to slip through my hands and go skittering across the floor to play hide-and-seek with me when I'm pulling them out of the ice maker in the morning to fill my water jug before work. Found ice cubes on the floor wind up in the critters' water dish where they can melt away to their hearts content. Koda, at least, seems to be a mite thirstier after one gets plunked in. Monday was a two cube day.
The first missing cube was easy. It hadn't made it any farther than the bottom shelf in the freezer, and simply joined its mates in my jug. But I checked all the usual places and didn't manage to locate the other one, and I knew I'd dropped it. I gave up, thinking it likely had landed on one of the soft bags in the freezer and was hiding in a fold of plastic. No matter. In a few days it would sublime.
I drove about 30 miles to my first stop of the day and unbuckled my seat belt. Odd, I couldn't imagine what I might have spilled on my lap, as I hadn't even poured out any of my water into my cup yet. But the side of my shorts under where the seat belt had been buckled was decidedly wet. As I stood up, I kept feeling around, finally reaching into the pocket.
Eureka! My missing ice cube!
Well, half, anyway.
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