We finally laid the entertainment center to rest.
The boys wanted to celebrate with a bonfire, but due to the concerns regarding glue, varnish and toxic fumes, I had to insist on sparklers as an alternative.
Now, the next hurdle for my weekend is finding my keys. I know I drove home with them—duh—but I have searched high and I have searched low, and they seem to have flat out disappeared. My keys and I do not have a good relationship. Actually, I don’t have a good relationship with anyone’s keys. If there really was an app for everything, there would be one to find my keys. Dearly departed Joe could always find my keys. He wasn’t nice about it, but when you can’t find your keys, nice hardly matters. My mother insists that the best place to keep track of your keys is to put them in the front pocket of your purse. I don’t disagree. Sometimes it seems like I am the only person on the face of the earth that loses their keys, or drops them through the board walk into lake Michigan, or has them turn up in the produce bin of the fridge (they’re not there this time.)
Well, at least I am not alone in my angst, as a friend just sent me a text, “Any idea where I might have put my brand new set of keys?” Misery does love company.
What about you? Do you lose your keys? And if you don’t, do you have any idea where I put mine?