You see, at Christmastime, one of my delightful friends handed me a carefully wrapped wee package. I opened it, and inside I found a key ring. The phrase on the key ring? "Keys I haven't lost yet." Now, I have been known to lose my keys a time or two. Each time I have lost my keys, I have vowed internally to take better care of my belongings and to always put them back into the same place. I had been remarkably good with that for losing my work keys is the worst feeling in the world. Losing a set of van keys a couple of summers back didn't feel very nice either. Not to mention, as you may have noticed from previous posts, I really hate losing things. It drives me crazy.
The key ring in question was placed on my carribeaner of keys. I laughed along with the rest of the crowd who thought this gift was hilarious. Woefully, I have to tell you that since I have put that on my key ring, I have lost my keys not once, not twice, but THREE times. I am more than irritated. More than annoyed. Completely baffled would be a better call.
The first time, I was at work. I had put my keys on my desk, got busy with other things and managed to cover them up with paperwork. At hometime, I gathered up my purse, jacket, cell phone, some files and ensured that my office was locked. I got to the van, dug through my purse and had to admit defeat. My keys were not there, nor were they in the van (I did look through the windows). I had to trudge back into the building and borrow keys to get back into the office retracing my steps. Sure enough, there they were under the paperwork gleefully shining brightly at me. I scowled and marched back out, sighing as once more I have added a joke to work lore. In my defence, they were in a safe place.
So, midweek the temperature decided to plummet into the depths. This means that occasionally, I separate my keys. I warm up the van first, and take the house keys off the ring in order to lock my door. I also keep my boots outside on a boot mat. Do you see where this is going? My brother happneed to be out of town, so I offered to spend time and walk his dog. I went one day and spent time and made sure that the door was locked properly when I left. Lo and behold, the other lass who was walking the dog and feeding him didn't have the key to the deadbolt. So, my brother texted me to let me know and of course, I legged it over to his house, 15 minutes away to unlock the house so that the wooflenog could have his visitations. I got to the door, and erm...my house keys were not on my key ring. This meant that his house keys were not on my keyring. They were not in the van. They were not in any of my 16 odd pockets. They were not anywhere on the ground. No, I drove back to my house and there they were...cheerfully hanging out in my door lock. I must have put them in the lock, put on my boots and just left them there...hanging out. On the aggravation level, this rates about an 8. On the relief that you have them level, this is also about an 8.
Having experienced that, you think I would have been paying better attention to my keys now wouldn't you? Sadly, this was not the case. Last night, I managed to lose my keys for the third time, much to my chagrin. I had been running late most of the day, just squeaking the girls into dance and swimming on time. I had a couple of extra errands to run, and by the time that was done, we didn't get home until 7:15 p.m. We had a frenzied supper with frenzied music practise and then my sitter showed up to look after the girls while I went to dance. Fabulous! I found my coat, purse, phone and tap shoes, without too much problem and I had my house keys in my pocket. Great, I locked the door and went to open the van. No keys.
Now, I had just got home. I hadn't been anywhere except the kitchen and the front door. I had carried in 2 backpacks, a bag of groceries, snow gear and other odds and sods. I put that stuff away while getting dinner. I checked the piano room, no keys. I told the girls to go to bed at intervals. I checked the shoes once, twice, three times. I sifted through the kitchen counters several times. I went to the laundry room and looked through baskets and clothes. No keys were found. The van was searched twice, and I hunted on the ground. No keys. What on earth? How do you lose keys when you just got home? I couldn't explain it. In between, I was telling the girls to go to bed and apologizing to the sitter for still being there.
Eventually, I found the spare key and drove off. Then, I looked at the clock and knew I would be 25 minutes late for class anyway so, worried, I turned around and used my sitter to watch the girls and put them to bed while I continued the hunt. I started all over again. A flashlight was procurred and played over the van, the grounds and the stairs. Even the snow was checked for impressions. I rechecked the piano room and the kitchen and the laundry room. By this point, I was clearing surfaces, emptying baskets, hunting drawers. I even started searching through rooms I knew I hadn't been to. Sigh. The mittens were tipped out and sorted, while the shoes were realigned. No keys. After over an hour, I was ready to admit defeat. Then IT happened. I was by the front door and I kicked a purple and blue toque out of the way. It hurt. The keys were inside the toque. On a scale of 1-10, the relief level was at a 10 but the sheer bafflement factor was around 20. I still don't know how I managed it.
All I can say is friend....you might just get that key ring back. I think it has jinxed me!
