"Where are my keys?"
I ask this question...a lot. Usually while I am roaming room to room, looking under chairs, cushions, mail, whatever, trying to remember when and where I last saw them. Know where I found them last time?
On the key hook.
How on earth did they wind up there? Because I know I didn't put them there!
I am a neat-freak's worst nightmare. I am a 'leave it where I land' person. So my keys are often found on the kitchen table, on the kitchen counter, on my dresser, on the bathroom counter, on the coffee table, on my nightstand...wherever I stopped with them in my hand. (Once I threw them in the trash...ok more than once). And then, when it's time for me to go and I can't find them, I roam aimlessly shouting, "where are my keys?"
My husband, ever so helpful, bought one of those handy little things with hooks on it to hang in the hallway. Presumably for my keys. But I don't use it. Ever.
He's the one who put them on the hook. Apparently he thought I would look for them there when I started my "where are my keys?" song and dance. Not so much.
I'm a right-brained person, which is really just a fancy excuse for why I leave my keys in random places, why I am absent-minded, and why I prefer Dave Grohl over Brad Paisley.
So next time, just leave my keys in that random place, dear, because I'm meant to search for them every day.
I normally leave my keys in the car in the garage, along with my purse. Every once in a while I mistakenly bring them in the house, and even sometimes my purse. Those are bad, bad, bad days. I can't find a damned thing.
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