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The other day, I lost my keys.
Feb. 4th, 2011 11:30 am
Well, not really *lost*. I knew where they must be. I had taken the keys out of my pocket at the library because the library keys are securely attached to the keychain - so they must be at the library!
The library is a 20 minute walk away. We'd just walked 20 minutes to get *home*. It was dark, and cold, and none of us had dinner. (Fortuitously, dinner would not have to be cooked. I'd decided on hummus for dinner. There's something, anyway.)
I did not want to believe that we were locked out... but we were. I checked all three doors. All three doors were conscientiously locked. I checked the three windows on the porch. They were all locked as well. I checked the basement windows. All locked after the time one blew open and broke (only the inside pane, so THAT was no good), and anyway they open in such a way that you can't really sneak in through them.
I checked every last one of the nine pockets in my coat, INCLUDING the two I never use because they're hard to get to, and all of my pants pockets. I do not know WHY I have nine pockets on my coat, but they're huge and I've been known to walk out of the house with books stuffed into them. That's books, plural - two paperbacks in each of the bottom pockets. So, with that in mind, I checked my pockets again.
No keys.
We banged on the door. We banged on the OTHER door. We tried to call Asa to let us in.
Finally, we did get in, but it involved hoisting children through semi-upstairs windows. Ugh. But we did get in and I did not have to walk back to the library with cold, underfed, whiny kids.
The next day, of course, I went to the library to retrieve my keys. The librarian opened some drawers. No keys. He brought out a whole BOX of keys... none of which were mine. Slightly panicked, I commented that "Well, maybe they're in my pocket and I just didn't notice...?" and, suiting the action to the word, I stuck my hand in the pocket... where, of course, my keys were laughing and hiding.
I didn't want to inform the librarian that we'd just wasted five minutes of our lives, 300 seconds that neither of us is ever getting back, so I just smiled weakly, wrote down my name (in case they DO find my keys, which of course they won't because I had them the whole time) and left for the second part of my mission - going into the city to buy a copy of I Broke My Trunk!
Sometimes - not very often, but sometimes - I think I must be the stupidest person on the face of the planet.
But it's not all bad. At least I had my keys.
The library is a 20 minute walk away. We'd just walked 20 minutes to get *home*. It was dark, and cold, and none of us had dinner. (Fortuitously, dinner would not have to be cooked. I'd decided on hummus for dinner. There's something, anyway.)
I did not want to believe that we were locked out... but we were. I checked all three doors. All three doors were conscientiously locked. I checked the three windows on the porch. They were all locked as well. I checked the basement windows. All locked after the time one blew open and broke (only the inside pane, so THAT was no good), and anyway they open in such a way that you can't really sneak in through them.
I checked every last one of the nine pockets in my coat, INCLUDING the two I never use because they're hard to get to, and all of my pants pockets. I do not know WHY I have nine pockets on my coat, but they're huge and I've been known to walk out of the house with books stuffed into them. That's books, plural - two paperbacks in each of the bottom pockets. So, with that in mind, I checked my pockets again.
No keys.
We banged on the door. We banged on the OTHER door. We tried to call Asa to let us in.
Finally, we did get in, but it involved hoisting children through semi-upstairs windows. Ugh. But we did get in and I did not have to walk back to the library with cold, underfed, whiny kids.
The next day, of course, I went to the library to retrieve my keys. The librarian opened some drawers. No keys. He brought out a whole BOX of keys... none of which were mine. Slightly panicked, I commented that "Well, maybe they're in my pocket and I just didn't notice...?" and, suiting the action to the word, I stuck my hand in the pocket... where, of course, my keys were laughing and hiding.
I didn't want to inform the librarian that we'd just wasted five minutes of our lives, 300 seconds that neither of us is ever getting back, so I just smiled weakly, wrote down my name (in case they DO find my keys, which of course they won't because I had them the whole time) and left for the second part of my mission - going into the city to buy a copy of I Broke My Trunk!
Sometimes - not very often, but sometimes - I think I must be the stupidest person on the face of the planet.
But it's not all bad. At least I had my keys.
