Mystery for You

So yesterday I sat at my breakfast table  (in the scooter, lately it's too painful to bother transferring to a kitchen chair) and peeled  a tangerine to end the meal.  (Actually it was something sold as a Darling Clementine, a bit smaller and less juicy than a tangerine.) 
And then thought wouldn't it be cozy to eat it while reading in the bathtub (one nice thing about being old and living alone is that there's no one to be upset by unorthodox living habits) so I scooted the peels over to leave them in the kitchen sink -- cannot grind them up because of what I did back in the 1950s which I won't take your time to discuss as it's really off the subject (when  our first disposal -- garbarator -- was installed, the electrician started to put the off-on switch in front of the sink, and I -- nervous and a bit afraid of this new device -- said  "no, no, not where the children could play with it" so it's up on the wall where now I can't reach it) and scooted off down the hall to the bathtub. But then remembered the Handyman was coming and because it's below freezing out there today I'd written a sign that said "Door's unlocked, just come in" (these days it takes quite a while to  get to the door -- and this is a ranch house and the bathroom door is at the end of the entrance hall, and I leave the door open when I take a bath because otherwise the room could get super-heated.)  Never mind what the handyman was coming for -- it's off-topic (change furnace filters, drain hot water heater, fix dishwasher)  so I decided instead to go back to bed and eat the clementine there while I read the morning paper (still 


seven days a week and still defiantly in four sections even when sometimes now a section 
is just a single sheet of folded newsprint) so I continued down the hall  to the  bedroom, dismounted, plugged in the scooter to re-charge while I was reading and getting dressed -- tossed the newspaper up near the pillows and pulled myself into bed and now we come  to the mystery, which perhaps you can help me solve.
Where  was the darling clementine?
I tottered back and unplugged the scooter, got in and searched.  It was not in the kitchen.  Not in the bathroom.  Not in the bedroom.  Not in the scooter.
Not in the bed.  At least, I've looked as thoroughly as I could -- I  have visions of it quietly rotting away between the sheets somewhere before Companion  comes next week to change  the bed.

Where is the darling clementine?