Crazy over keys

If someone tells you they have lost their keys, you express sympathy, empathy all that nice stuff you’re supposed to say. I’ve done it and so have you. Then it happens to YOU.

I lost a set of keys two days ago. Those son of a bitches disappeared literally into thin air. There isn’t an object in this house that has escaped being tipped upside down, turned inside out and examined more closely than a gynecological appointment. I can recite the sizes and labels in every jacket in my closet even knowing I did not wear them the last time the keys were in my fist. My handbag has been emptied out so many times – it is almost worn out.

I had them to drive the SUV into the driveway and get into the house. They are here somewhere. This hasn’t happened to me since I was 14 years old when I was on crutches and lost a new handbag with my new house key (probably the 45th one my mother had made for me). Now, I feel the frustration she exhumed. She used to say she supplied everyone in Pleasant Hills, PA with a key to our home because her children could not hold onto them longer than five minutes! It was a lesson not forgotten until now.

Where are you?Tell me one human being with any sense who would look forward to groping dirty laundry, ripping stuff out of the refrigerator, sifting through trash with beer bottles and coffee grinds and taking precious tools out of the tool box searching for a set of keys that weigh at least a pound. I’ve seen the bottom of dresser drawers, file cabinets and the silverware drawer. I can tell you where they are not located. You get so frickin nuts – you check the same places three and four times. My cousin even checked the yard!

The SUV had to go to the dealership this morning to fix something that was $460.81 fixed last Wednesday. It was locked tighter than a skinflint’s butt. Okay, I can’t remember if I locked it or the security system automatically locked it. Being crazy over keys makes your brain scrambled. Does it really matter when you can’t open a door – how they got locked? Really?

Then, I had to do a search and rescue of the “other” set of vehicle keys. I found keys to the 1994 Camaro Z28, one of the son’s Chevy Pick-ups and contestant number 3 opened the SUV. Praise be to God that I didn’t have to call AAA or a locksmith and explain what an airhead I am. Then I had to find a key to lock up the Ponderosa. Life is going to be a grab ass until those damn things show up.

It is truly not the worst thing that has happened to me. It won’t be the last time I lose something of importance. The next time someone else tells me their keys turned into fairy dust – I’m sending flowers and a card.



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