the trouble with keys
The trouble with keys is that I lose them. I leave them in the car on a regular basis and hit that “thieves you can’t get in here and steal my water bottles, mismatched shoes, half-eaten apples, or dirty diaper bag” button. You know the lock button. Why do I think I need to lock my doors when anyone with more than two brain cells can see that my suburban is worthless. I know, it’s because there might be a thief with just one brain cell that will want to take it and then where would we be without a vehicle? Stuck at home!
It happened again tonight. I was talking on the phone and knew I had my keys because I had something in my hand, so I hit the magic button and then realized the something was not a set of keys, but was in fact the phone I was talking on! How could I have confused the two?
Really. I do not understand how a once well-functioning brain has turned into this, this, this what? Absolutely overloaded, forgetful, and misfiring clump of brain cells?
Thank goodness for Richard. He had another set and came and rescued me.
With a smile and a kiss.