(More than) Fourinarow.net

I’ve been missing my keys for the last couple of days.  I know, I know.  How could I stand it?

Well, I couldn’t.  It’s been driving me nuts.  I know I had them in my coat pocket on Tuesday when we took the Metra to have lunch in Geneva with the kids.  It was a zipped, inside pocket, so I know they didn’t fall out.  Once home, I didn’t leave the house again that day.

I discovered my keys were missing when Dan asked me to move the van for him early Wednesday morning so he could get his car out.  I couldn’t find my keys, so I grabbed his.  And just kept using them.  His keys lack a key fob for the van, though, so I was motivated to find my own.

I looked EVERYwhere.  Under furniture, in the cushions, in all my pockets, in all Dan’s pockets.  Nothing.  I told the kids that if someone found my keys they could have a piece of candy.  They didn’t even look.  (I guess that’s the disadvantage of losing your keys just after Halloween.)

This morning Sam and I ran some errands while everyone else was at school.  At one point I asked him where my keys were.  “Basement,” he said.  “They’re in the basement at home?” I asked.  “Yeah,” he replied.

Cool.  Sam plays with my keys when he gets the chance and he usually (unbelievably) remembers where he leaves stuff.  When we got home I asked him to go get my keys.  We went downstairs together and found… nothing.  He didn’t even look.  But, I did.  EVERYwhere.  Again.  Nothing.

I got on the phone with Dan and told him I was getting increasingly frustrated at not being able to find my keys.  I knew they had to be around here somewhere.  I prayed to St. Anthony (some more) and talked to Dan about other stuff while I kept searching.  I even looked in all the old cabinets and drawers in the old kitchen.  Nada.

I turned around (a feat in itself in that old kitchen) and glanced around to see where I should look next.

And saw them.

“I found them,” I told Dan.  “You will NEVER guess where.”

Dan threw out a few bizarre places one might find keys if one had children such as ours living with them.  After several attempts, though, he gave up.  “Where were they?” He asked.

“On the key hook.  In the old kitchen,”  I told him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said.  “I saw Sam playing with them the other day and so I put them there.”

A little late for that memory to be kicking in, dontcha think?

In a way, I can’t believe I didn’t look there.  The key hook is one of the first things I installed when we moved in, ’cause I can’t stand not being able to find my keys.  (Obviously it’s something I now need to move.)  On the other hand, I’m sure it didn’t occur to me to look there since we never use the old kitchen any more!

Anyway, I’m VERY happy to have my keys back. Now, where did I put my iphone.  (Just kidding – THAT would be a complete disaster.)