Car keys, where are the car keys?
I put them on the table and now they’re not where I left them or did I leave them on that table?
Maybe I left them on the other table. Why can’t they stay in one place where they can easily be found?
Move that pile of magazines around, maybe they got covered up by the clutter.
Maybe they are deliberately hiding out of my sight because the universe has other plans for my scheduled departure.
Where are those keys?
The later I leave, the more traffic I will have to sit in once I finally get on the road. Check my pockets again.
Wait, this is not the same jacket I wore yesterday. Check those pockets.
Where is that Jacket? I left it right there. But now it’s not there, where did it go? Probably the same place the keys went.
Those keys are like socks in the dryer, what goes in is not the same that comes out. Without those keys I cannot leave the house, I cannot lock the front door.
I cannot go to work…well that doesn’t sound too bad, maybe it’s a sign.
Maybe the keys are trying to tell me it’s time to take a hooky day off from the workday this week.
Maybe I should pay closer attention to where I lay my stuff at the end of my workday instead of lumbering up the driveway, through the front door, down the hallway, into the kitchen, dropping my stuff that I lug with me daily on to the bench.
Maybe I should pay closer attention to the location of where I kick off my shoes and shrug off my jacket that I drape off the back of the chair at the end of the table where I thought I set down my car keys as I step into the den and plant a hello kiss on my husband’s cheek exchanging check-ins on each other’s day.
Maybe I should pay more attention to what I drop on the table as I walk around to the refrigerator and as I stand in front of the open fridge and have that silent mental argument with it smartly asking what is for dinner and why isn’t it defrosted, how long will it take and how much effort do we want to put into it?
Maybe I should have paid more attention to where those car keys ended up before all those other distractions came about.
Where could those car keys have disappeared to and why am I standing here like they are going to call my name and verify their location?
The clock is ticking. The house is blissfully silent.
The workday is looking more like a day off.
Retrace my steps and do one more visual sweep of all my stops from kitchen to the front door before I call out from work, thinking to myself, do I use the excuse that I can’t find my car keys or do I fabricate something?
Down the hall I go and the dog lifts her head as I pass the living room. I tell her she’ll probably have company today since I can’t find my car keys. She puts her head back down and sighs.
My decision is made, I shut the front door. As I turn away from the door way the car keys are hanging on the key rack. I sigh and turn to the dog, asking her, “Where ARE those car keys?”