You can probably tell a lot about me from my key ring. It’s really big, so I can find it in my bag. I can slip the big ring around my wrist if I don’t have a bag with me.
It holds my KCRW Fringe Benefits card and my Los Angeles County Library Card and some miscellaneous rewards cards that I should probably remove. Also, a key ring that I bought on my way out of the Fort Wayne, Indiana airport years and years ago. And a dinosaur with a flashlight in its mouth, on permanent loan from Hydra.
Oh, and the keys to EVERYTHING, on detachable secondary rings. The house set opens the doors, garage, shed and mailbox. The work set opens the front and back building doors and the suite door-important because I usually arrive well before my coworkers. And the car set which, you know, gets me between said house and said workplace.
Last night Hydra and I went out to run some errands. He drove. We took the Tahoe. I had the set of keys above, which don’t actually include the Tahoe and trailer keys.
We went to FIVE places. Our local Post Office to mail a book back to a friend, Lowe’s for light bulbs, Target for toothpaste–where I nearly swooned amid all the glorious back-to-schoolness–Smart & Final for non-alcoholic beer, and t Trader Joe’s for the foodie essentials that aren’t included in the farm bundle.
On the 8-mile drive back to our little berg, Hydra asks if I have the mailbox key with me. Sure I do! Not.
Everything comes out of my bag. We check the floor. We check the TJ’s bags. I call Tj’s and Lowe’s as we drive toward home.
I. feel. terrible. I’m incredibly hungry. I’m incredibly disgusted with myself.
I call everyplace and leave a description of my key ring and my phone number.
In a fit of FitBit obsession, even though I already had my 10,000 steps in, I had walked between three of the stores (whoo-hoo 12,550 steps and 5.49 miles!), which meant I could have dropped them anywhere in between.
Hydra drives back to town to retrace our steps. He’s completely cool about this, but I don’t go with him. I take the attitude that they have all those scanner cards on them, and if they want to come back to me they will. If not, I’m out some cash and some time. I email my boss and tell her I’ll be working at home again the next day due to keylessness. She is empathetic.
I try to put into play my philosophy that beating myself up and feeling like a complete loser isn’t going to change my situation for the better. I get a lot of practice at this when my job gets crazy every year around this time and my brain starts overheating. And then I misplace stuff and I have to keep notes about where I’m supposed to be and when.
Hyrda comes home empty handed and we remember that our first stop was the Post Office, which was closed by the time I started calling around. Hmm.
I call the local Post Office this morning and a person answers because we really do live in a small town. I can see her face in my mind because she has helped me often. She’s so happy to say they have a set of keys. In fact, they have TWO sets of keys! There’s mine and–as Hydra reported after he picked them up–a set with a fish on the ring.
So it wasn’t just me!
And all’s well that ends well.
And the good folks at the Post Office get to be heroes again!