I lose things a lot. Maybe I should clarify. I don’t often lose a large variety of things. I regularly lose the same things. Nearly every time I leave the house, I have to look for my keys.
Yes, I know it’d be a good idea to put them in the same place every time I come home. I’ve tried that. We have a key bowl and a key hook, and there’s a key pocket in my purse. Unfortunately, my keys never find those places.
Usually, when I “lose” them, I can retrace my steps until I remember what I was doing when I last had my keys. It doesn’t take me all that long to find them. Every once in a while, they’re shoved in a couch cushion or under something. That complicates things.
Brookstone used to sell this seemingly brilliant little keychain key finder. Clap, the thing beeps and you locate your keys. Unless they were shoved in a couch cushion or under something. Do you see the problem there?
This weekend, we were having dinner with friends. Sometime during the evening, I moved my purse from the table where we’d be eating. When I did, I thought, “Hmm. I swear the keys were right here. I must’ve put them in my purse.” Why I didn’t check right then will forever remain a mystery. We went to leave, and the keys were nowhere to be found.
This has happened to me before. I knew where I left the keys. I was positive. I went crazy going through my every move, wondering when I’d lost track. One night during The Kids’ “Sleeping Beauty” performance, I set my keys on a seat in the theater. Although I’d just thrown my purse and keys down so I could help, saving seats wasn’t allowed. My purse was moved to a nearby table. I saw where it was and left it there until after the show.
I grab my purse and start walking to the car. I don’t feel the keys. They are not in the bag. I ask everyone. I describe the keys. People check their pockets. Ladies empty their purses. The stupid keys are nowhere to be found.
What? Of course I have a spare! Being a responsible key loser, I don’t keep my extra set anywhere near my car. If one loses keys, one likely locks keys in cars, too. Spare key retrieved, we all made it home safely. An hour or so later, someone sent me this picture:
The cross was a nice touch. She felt terrible. When asked earlier if she’d seen the infamous keys, she just didn’t remember seeing the keys. That’s especially funny, considering she later found them in her pocket. Whoops. I know how she feels. She offered prizes and sincere apologies. I declined the former and wholeheartedly accepted the latter. At least we found them. It wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, this wasn’t my first rodeo.
When I lost keys the other night, things were a little more complicated. The Man’s keys were missing. In his (locked) truck were my car keys and both of our house keys. Fortunately, we had an extra with a friend and could get in the house. The problem was getting to the house.
We borrowed our friend’s car and got home safely, but I was highly confused. I was sure I’d put the keys on the kitchen table. I was sure they were next to the purse, rather than in the purse.
I woke up the next morning, earlier than usual, with a pit in my stomach. This wasn’t the end of the world, but The Man’s spare was at his office. He needs keys to get inside his office. His office key was locked in his truck. It was going to be a bit of a puzzle and process, but we’d figure it out.
Once we did, and we were back at our friends’ house, we tried one more time to find the elusive set of keys. The wife even offered to get out rubber gloves and go through the garbage. I wasn’t so sure. We walked through the house one more time, lifting throw pillows and opening drawers. They were nowhere to be found. At this point, I assumed someone accidentally picked them up, and they’d resurface later.
Until I saw them. “What are those? Are those y’all’s?” Everyone in the room turned to look at the tiny hook, hung high on the laundry room wall. Laughter. The husband said, “Oh! That’s our key spot!”
I’m glad their “key spot” works. I wish I’d known about it. In all likelihood, I wouldn’t have put my keys there in the first place. At least this way I can blame someone else. For once. Well, twice.