It started with this observation: Black Escape behind silver Swagger Wagon. Must find Ford keys.
Search bag, search pockets of yesterday's jeans. Nope. Nope. Check key holder near telephone. Bingo. (Why would they be there?)
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| Why, hello, Car Keys. I've been looking all my life for you. |
Keys in hand, Jules and I shuffle off to school, leaving Jon and Kai (who has a fever) at home.
7:50: We arrive. I remove keys from the ignition. I leave my bag in the car and, given that I have no pockets, carry my keys.
7:52: Stop by the baby room to say Kai won't be coming in. Keys in hand (I think).
7:54: Walk to "Caterpillar" room. Keys in hand (I think).
7:55-8:00: Restock diaper bin, chat with Julian's teacher. Kiss Jules goodbye.
8:00: Uh oh. Where are my keys?
8:01: Check his outside bin.
8:02: Check his lunch box (in the fridge)
8:03: Check the waistband of my skirt (who knows?)
8:04: Walk to baby room. Check Kai's bin. Check the floor.
8:05: Check the bag used to transport the diapers. No dice.
8:06 - 8:07: Pace between the two classrooms rechecking the bag.
8:08: Check the American Eagle mailer inside the diaper bag (um, why is it there?) containing the jeans I ordered majorly on sale that do not fit at all even though I currently have three pairs of AE jeans in this same size. Annoying. BINGO. (Why would they be there?)
8:09: Head out of the center.
8:10: Walk back into the center. Need to leave the bag so I can bring Julian's stuff home.
Sheesh! Yesterday, after getting my hair cut, I spent 6 minutes emptying my entire bag on the back bumper of my car--again, looking for my keys--while the guy parked next to me made fun (nicely). Once I found them, I realized that I'd forgotten my coffee cup on the front desk inside the salon.
WTF is going on? Well, there's a lot going on--work... travel... boys... one of them, sick... and according to this fascinating article that fellow science writer Gretchen Voss wrote originally for Women's Health magazine, stress messes with your memory.
Guess I need to chill out. And, in the meantime, figure out a system for keeping track of my keys.
Nicci! I'm so the same way and I hate it. The other day I had borrowed my mother-in-law's car so I wasn't used to driving it. I stopped to get lunch, went inside, decided it was too greasy so I'd go somewhere else. Outside, I got into THE WRONG CAR. I flew out of there because I was so embarrassed and hoped the owner hadn't seen me. I left down the parking lot to a different place and realized I LEFT MY PURSE ON THE FRONT SEAT OF THE STRANGER'S CAR!!! No. way. Is this really who I've become? SO embarrassed, I drove back and tried not to look like a thief as I nonchalantly opened up the car, grabbed my purse and high tailed it out of there. OY! Where on earth is my brain? It has gotten worse for me with every kid. Good luck. :)
ReplyDeletemelanie
Omg. I'm sorry - but I LOVE this story. Totally laughing out loud! xo
ReplyDeleteI've lost YEARS off my life looking for keys. Nothing can send me into a violent shit-storm of rage like looking for my stupid keys. Here's the solution: Wear them. Since I've started draping them over my neck a few years ago I've lost them maybe once. It's not exactly fashionable, but neither are the bald spots left on either side of your head you gave yourself the last time you lost those f@&king keys! - Hilary M
ReplyDeleteWho says keys around your neck isn't fashionable?
ReplyDelete