I went to toss melted ice from the bottom of my iced-tea glass into a storm drain at the corner of Innes and Church streets and didn’t hold onto my keys. They were gone in an instant. I could see them at the bottom of the drain, right next to two pieces of squeezed out lemon.

But listen, you don’t make as many mistakes as I do without being cool in the face of calamity. I devised a key-rescue plan immediately. Just take two of the strong magnets we use in the newsroom to tack pictures and notes to our metal cubicle walls, lower the magnets into the drain on a string and pull up the keys which will have attached themselves to the magnet.

It seemed simple enough; all I needed was a piece of string. Nothing simple is ever simple. The only way to get a piece of string was to ask for it. When I asked for it at the Post’s front desk, people had to know why I wanted it. I explained my accident. They laughed. They’d never heard of anything like that happening to anybody. And they weren’t at all sure the string-and-magnet stunt would work. When Sharon experimented, her magnets wouldn’t hold her keys.

“My magnets are stronger,” I said.

Also, there’s no such thing as plain string anymore. I ended up with the stuff they use to bind up stacks of newspaper, a flat, plastic kind of tape.

They didn’t believe I could attach the tape by placing it between two magnets, either. But it worked. As I said, these things are strong.

Everybody offered to come outside and help me.

I didn’t need help, I said.

Well, Ron Brooks wondered would I mind if he just came along and watched anyway. I couldn’t say no, could I?

So I took my device and dropped the magnet end down the storm drain, but it didn’t go. The magnets clamped fast to the iron grate across the drain. When I pried the magnets off to try again, I decided it would be better if I could start my toss from right at the grate, but I’m so stiff the only way to do that was to sit down on the curb and stretch out my legs.

That’s exactly when Ron Brooks decided to come watch the action.

It took a pretty forceful shove, but I was able to drop the magnets to the bottom of the drain, the keys did latch on, the string held and I pulled the whole mass of metal and magnet up to the top, where the whole mess attached itself to the iron grate.

Even absorbed as I was in pulling the keys from the grate, I realized that I’d attracted an audience and most of them, including Ron, were laughing. I think the sight of me heaving myself off the curb to stand up again made them laugh more.

When people laugh at you, they are unlikely to turn helpful. Realizing this, has made me decide not to invest in a pair of those magnets insoles you put in your shoes to keep your feet from hurting.