The Case of the Missing Keys

My keys went missing this week--the car key with the red house key on it, that is, not the work keys with about 10 keys on the squiggly bracelet.  Yes, they were gone, but I didn't lose them, per se.  They just became missing.

There is a difference, you know.  I will admit to losing my keys upon occasion, both sets actually--just not at the same time.  I prefer to think everyone does or has at some time.  When the husband is home, I often hear, "Where are the blankety blank keys!' or "What'd 'cha do with the keys!!!" Or, depending on how long it is taking or how late husband is, worse things are mumbled.

Or maybe that comes after I say, "Why didn't you put them back where they belong--by the door!" (I don't mean to say that; it just pops out!)

It's so easy to be righteous and smug when someone else does something wrong that you have just done right, right?  (Never mind that you have done the same wrong thing many times, right again? )

Nevertheless, it is true--I have misplaced my keys a few times as well and it is very frustrating, especially when husband is not home because I have no one to blame but myself, no one to help me scurry around looking for them, and no one to yell at.

It's always interesting when you actually find them.  Then you remember why they are where they are.  You remember it all, maybe.  However, the worse place to find your keys is in the door on the outside the next morning.  Yep, I've done that a time or two but don't worry, it's not very often.

But here's the interesting part--when that does happen, and I have been looking by myself all over the house and in my purse, and pants, and everywhere, and then for some reason open the door and there they are in the keyhole, I am not scared at what I had done or worried, not at all--I am thrilled!  I am thrilled that I have FOUND my keys and now can go to work or wherever. 

Hopefully, you don't leave your keys in the door or lose them and certainly I hope they don't just go missing like mine did, but I would bet that misplacing them happens to everyone sometime.  However, as I think about that statement, my dad comes to mind.  I don't think Daddy ever lost his keys because he would always come in and go straight to the bedroom and put his wallet, keys, change on the same tray every day.  I cannot recall a single time he didn't do this, even in his old age.

So how do you lose your car keys when you have used them to go to a store, restaurant, wherever, and get out of the car, click the lock on your key fob, and then when you come out of the wherever, you don't have the keys.  Of course, you are thinking, well, you simply left them in the store.  I, too, have thought that and actually did think that the evening my keys went missing.

Here is how it happened:  Just a night or two ago, I went into a favorite restaurant close by
to pick up a salad for a friend and me to share for dinner at my house.  I visited with another friend who was on the patio and whom I hadn't seen in awhile and then went in.  I stood in line to order, flirted with a cute little toddler girl and visited with her mom until it was my turn to order and get the dinner.  I got my salad, paid for it, scooted over out of the line to get my keys out of my purse, so I could quickly jump in the car and get home before my guest arrived.  Well, guess what?  I couldn't find them.  They were no where in my purse!  They were missing!

Dang it!  I hate this.  I am really bad about just throwing money, keys, receipts, etc. in my purse willy-nilly.  Things are never put back in an organized manner.   When I can't quickly retrieve something in my purse, I vow to be more conscientious and put things back in order--forevermore.  I also vow to have a holder of some kind where I put my car key every time I get out of the car.  Same vow that evening. And I do that unless I get distracted or I'm in a hurry or someone is waving at me from the patio.

Nevertheless, I took everything out, (twice), looked back at the register where I paid, went out to where my friend was, explained to her the problem, looked around her table while she looked through my purse (again and even commented on the fact that there were dollar bills and change everywhere but in my wallet).  No keys.  My keys had vanished.  They were simply missing!

I even went to the car to check to see if I had dropped them there or if somehow they were still in the car. No keys by the car; no keys in the car from the window I was peeking in; no keys anywhere.

So I turned around, went back in the restaurant and questioned the waiters behind the salad bar again.  No one had seen them. I looked on the floor under the counter between the legs of the waiting customers.  ("Excuse me.  Excuse me," I said eyeing the floor and inadvertently bumping into them); I looked on the counter again.


All the time I felt the eyes of the preppy young people roll as they were watching the little old lady look for her lost keys.  "Bless her heart!" "Poor thing."  I know they were saying that even though I didn't actually hear them say anything.  But you know they were.  I probably would have been at their ages.

Then I asked a young lady behind the counter if any keys had been turned in.  The guy at the register said, "Yeah, she was just in here and paid for her salad and she's already been back once."  (Hey, I can't leave without my keys, ya know, fellow!)  Well, the young lady went around the counter and pulled out the shelf between the salad bar and the counter and there they were--she heard them before she saw them as they jingled when she moved the counter!!!!

VINDICATION!  I am NOT a forgetful old lady who probably left her keys in the car or in her purse.  They were STOLEN by that counter.  NOT MY FAULT!  See, I am NOT a forgetful little old lady. 

Obviously, it must have happened before at least a time or two or that young, intelligent, beautiful, sweet, patient girl wouldn't have looked between the cracks. Thank you; thank you; thank you.

I then proudly went back outside, displayed my keys to my friend, explained where they had been, said good-bye again, and proceeded to the car.   All of a sudden, I realized that the car I was approaching--the exact one that I peeked in when looking for my keys--was NOT my car.

I quickly and sheepishly looked back to see if my friend was watching and thank goodness, she wasn't so I hurriedly scurried to my car which was a little further down the parking lot as fast as my little old lady legs would carry me, unlocked the door, jumped in (or kinda maneuvered myself in), turned on the ignition, backed up without hearing any beep, beep, beep, and swiftly left.  Whew!  How embarrassing that would have been to have my friend witness another "old person" event. 

I couldn't help wonder, though, as I drove off chuckling at myself (ya gotta laugh), if the owners of that mistaken car were also on the patio and had been watching the "little old lady" try to get into the wrong car--their car!

Nevertheless, the mystery is solved; I have my keys!  Now to find my pride and dignity again.