…and Found
I do not lose things. Ever. Few things on this planet send me into the red faster than having to spend perfectly good time searching for things. To buoy this need, I have developed elaborate placement and protocol strategies for all items. If you see me shaking my right arm like I have a tick 17 times a day, it’s because my phone lives in my right uniform shoulder pocket. A tiny shake makes sure it’s there.
And half of the chicken dance is fun.
You see what it says on that key? “Smart.” NO IT ISN’T.
This is the only key to my car as I don’t know, I bought it that way and surely no one knows where extra keys come from. Where are its key friends? Funny you should ask! He was separated (NOT PROTOCOL) and left that way (WARNING) and after I moved my car last night, well, all systems broke loose. He went rogue.
I spent 45 minutes of my morning tearing the house apart, emptying hampers, slamming doors, and cursing before getting a ride to work from a Great Expectations-style benefactor.
I do not. Lose things.
And THEN. Ryan comes home and looks for three, possibly four minutes and I get this photo in my Inbox. Yeah. I’d looked there. Seventy or 80 times.
The universe is particularly traitorous today.
