Three-hundred and twenty-nine days later, I found the Box of Keys. I wasn’t looking for them, of course. Instead, I was trying to find cold medicine or maybe something else. I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter.
What matters is the fact that I found the Box of Keys. Back in the day, I very helpfully marked the clear plastic box with a Sharpie marker–“KEYS WITHOUT HOMES”–as if it weren’t obvious that a bunch of random keys had no permanent homes.
When I spotted the Box of Keys at the very top corner of the upper cabinet shelf behind two bottles of Advil (one expired, one A-okay) I said, “There they are!” I stood on tippy-toes and pulled that box down with great glee.
I couldn’t remember why I’d ever wanted them, though. Is this my new life? I spend frantic minutes searching for things I can’t find and then I find things but I can’t remember why I cared in the first place?
I actually did a search of my blog to figure out why the keys had seemed urgent. I found my blog from June 5, 2013 and then I remembered the padlock situation. (My son started a job and needed a padlock and I found the padlocks but couldn’t find a key.)
I am actively resisting the urge to find the padlocks. I suspect I would not immediately be able to find them and that would lead to another semi-panicked, frustrating game of It Was Right There Why Can’t I Find It.
My husband would never have a box of keys without homes. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: his ideal living situation is a dorm room with beige walls and an extra-large bookshelf. He does not save things “just in case.” I like to think that I balance his tendency to throw away perfectly good stuff, but the truth is that I probably drive him a little crazy with my drawers of doodads and boxes of doohickeys and all those shoes I don’t really wear. (Let’s not discuss my laundry room.)
I have boxes of cords that belong to electronics that we may or may not own.
I have a queen-sized air mattress that was purchased 17 years ago and used once.
I have a hamster cage I bought at a garage sale–it was such a deal–but we’ve never owned a hamster.
And so on and so forth.
But listen, if we ever get a hamster, we don’t have to buy a cage! And if we ever live in houses we once lived in before, we won’t have to get spare keys! And if you come to my house, I can offer you an air mattress upon which to sleep.
I have an air compressor somewhere so we can pump it up. Just give me a little time so I can figure out where I left it. (It’s lost. Probably in a box in the garage.)