Keys, Please!

For as long as I have owned keys, I worry about them. Call it one of those strange phobias, which is why I have two full sets of keys in case something happens to one of them.

I fear that I am going to drop them down a sewer drain. You know, those big things covered with grates that you can walk on. I don't like walking on them, but when I do, I have the Vulcan Death Grip on my keys.

I fear that I am going to lock them in my car. So,I clutch them in my little hand whenever I close my car door. I make sure they are in my direct line of site. I'm the same way about checking to make sure my debit card is in my wallet before I leave the house...even though I live alone and there is no reason for my debit card to be out.

Yes, I'm sick about this. You don't have to point that out.

I came to work, as I usually do on a Friday. I parked in the garage, gathered my things, got out of the car...

Why is it that you realize you lock your keys inside your car the very second the door closes???

There they were, plain as day, in the ignition...inside my locked car. I stood there, my face pressed against the glass, spewing forth a string of profanities as I watched my keys dangle carelessly. I don't know how it happened, as I am usually neurotic about them. It must have been the fact that Starbucks ran out of black tea, and I had to settle for the green tea instead.

Quickly, I dialed my mother and told her what happened. She laughed at me, which upset me even more. I asked her to go to my place and pick up my other set of keys. While this was easy, she pointed out that she didn't know how to get to my place of employment to bring me the second set. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that directing my mother to work would have been a bad idea because with her sense of direction, she would have ended up off of Prospect or something.

A little white hick woman going through menopause in a large, red Jeep Liberty = not a good idea.

So, I called my friend Ben and orchestrated a pass-off of the keys. An hour later, he arrived at work, my keys in hand. I raced up to my car, and rescued the first set. All I could think of, someone could come along and see this shiny car, keys in the ignition.

May as well hang a sign in the window: Free for the Taking!

Now, I will worry twice as much about my keys, even though this was the first time in over 10 years since I've locked my keys inside my car. Maybe I can make multiple copies and hide them in places I know I can get to in the event it ever happens again. Heather's keys hidden like Easter eggs.

I guess there are worse things to be mental over.