I reached down onto the table to grab my keys. They weren’t there. Looked over on the coffee table. They weren’t there, either. Checked my watch. Sixteen minutes to take out the garbage and break down two boxes before my friend showed up. Her first visit and I still had bras hanging from my (very cute but very underutilized) bicycle.
A self-locking door and a secure exterior entry stood between me and the trash bins. I needed keys if I were to keep from looking like the messy person I tend to be.
Being a creature of habit and patterns, I knew they were in one of six places:
- Bathroom Countertop. For times I run from office to bus stop, wiggle in my seat all the way home, then not-so-casually run/walk from the stop through the exterior door, to the inner door, and straight into the bathroom. All because I didn’t want to wait for the next bus.
- Dining Table. For days that do not include mad dashes to the bathroom. These are the days I get the mail on my way in, throw it all on the table, and let my backpack flop to the ground near a chair leg before sitting down at my computer.
- Kitchen Counter. Recent grocery runs are predominantly the culprit for kitchen counter key collection. In an effort to haul as much per load as possible, I use all available arm space. This necessitates wedging my keys into my hand so as to access the exterior and interior locks. It also guarantees the bag handles will slide down my arm and onto my hand, requiring careful extraction once in the kitchen.
- Coffee Table. Big, round, and low to the ground, it’s the key receptacle of choice when I bring back a pizza slice, Starbucks cappuccino, or other take-out. I head directly to the couch, sit down, drop the keys in favor of the remote control, and promptly forget about them.
- Foot of the Bed. Somehow I’ve gotten into the habit of leaving my keys at the foot of the bed (about 18% of the time). Granted, it’s a tall bed – more of a table. But still. Odd. Generally such instances correlate with busy days where I have no time to do anything but run in, change clothes, and run back out the door.
- Closet Shelf. Any closet shelf. The one with my t-shirts and belts and gloves (because sometimes you have to really search for the right one)…the closet with shoes on about four different shelves…the coat closet. I have a surprising amount of closets, and all of them have eye-level shelves that make handy key stashers while I’m distracted by the hunt for a different article.
In a hurry, I followed the round robin outlined above. Twice. And then one more time.
No keys.
Finally I dug for my spare set and headed to my storage closet, thinking I left them on a (surprise!) shelf when I was putting my cooler away.
Nothing. Back to the apartment.
12 minutes to dump the stinky garbage.
I paused in the kitchen, checking out the foliage through the passthrough. Thought that I should have taken the stinky garbage when I had the spare keys with me. Then thought about how hungry I was.
Hunger made me remember I had a piece of toast immediately after getting home from work.
I was standing next to the toaster. Looked over. There were my keys. Perched on top of the microwave and in front of the knife block. Clearly part of the kitchen, but not the same plane as the counter, so therefore not part of the key finding route.
Luckily, they were also right next to the recycling. So I grabbed the boxes and the garbage, shoved my keys into my pocket, and headed outside.
I made it back with a few minutes to spare. Just enough to grab the bras of my bike.
Every day another story -
Sofie
Very close to what I go through, only you are much more organized with only 6 places to look!!! Thanks for the humor.