The Perfect Hiding Place

People devise the most overly complex hiding places for their treasures, legacies, and skeletons. Hollywood proffers an entire subgenre devoted to the subject: arks, grails, and peanut product origins are cached at the bottom of wells and under triangles, and are guarded by millennia-old secret societies headquartered in abandoned ice cream shops, even though maps and clues pointing to the clandestine places are sprinkled liberally behind portraits, declarations, and double-sided pendants.

After spending the day replacing the insulation under our new bathroom's floor (the rest of which was completed months ago), I realized none of this is the least bit necessary.

If the Illuminati, the Stonecutters, the Freemasons, Skull and Bones, and KAOS really want to protect their valuables, they should simply post signs like the following on telephone poles, bulletin boards, and Craigslist:

HIDDEN

Priceless treasures are tucked into the fibreglass insulation batts lining the subfloor of the mobile home at 551 Harrington Road, Clanton Ontario, K0C 4J7.

I defy anyone to spend a day digging through that horrible stuff. A bullwhip's not a lick o' good against them choking glass fibres, Indy.