Not really. Not fifteen. Just the only key to my car, house, Megan’s car and my office. Oh, and the remote to my garage. What’s that? Five? The distress of losing keys is acute. I guess a lost wallet is worse with credit, debit, health and ID cards…
I spent yesterday miserable and miserable to be around. Some people I used to work with called it “the monster.” Well, he was back, sulking around the house inside and out, in a joyless search for shards of carved metal. What about that spare to the Volvo? I know I had one of those. Yeah, Megan used it once to um, borrow my car. Once I got it back, I hid it… Uhhhh…. That’s where the early-onset Alzheimer’s kicks in…
This morning I tore the house apart. Post-Megan joyride, I had hidden the key under my luggage in a cubbyhole in my room. As I frisked every pocket in 3 black roller bags, I was teased by two of them with what turned out to be the cheesy combination bag lock. I moved to old pants pockets, old shoes, my Volvo file and in a variety of “junk drawers.” I crawled under beds (note to self: discuss contents with Kyle) and through the car itself… Nothing. I dug through the antique dresser in Kyle’s room through the Harry Potter stuff, old racquetball racquets, and my plaque of the 1978 Intercity League Champs, the Wakefield Merchants. Hey kid, nice ‘fro. Zip… Then a hopeful sense washed over me and I opened Kyle’s closet. Most of it is now filled with the bright colors of baby girl clothes yet to be modeled by Miss Madison, but in the back were my coats… Immediately I knew which one and pulled the “Valet” key from the pocket of an old “LL Bean” type canvas windbreaker Dad had given me. I stuffed the monster into the closet and walked into Megan’s room silently hold the key aloft like I had won “the Ring” after a dirty, medieval death match with Gollum.
So I’m off to get a couple copies of my house key made and I’ll order a new primary key from Volvo. As for my office key, I’m sure there are spares and I gained some new perspective from my daughter about it. “You should be happy you have an office key. Most people have cubes.”
It’s that “glass half full” perspective that’s um… a key to happiness.
Did you try a prayer to St. Anthony?
Oh dear St. Anthony please help me find my ……
What did you find under Kyles bed?
Hey, Megan – good call on the “You should be happy you have an office key” comment, as any combination of your Dad losing his keys and reminiscing about his years working in the cube could have really been a disaster. Whew!