I was just conversing with our guest speaker after church and telling her about how frequently I loose my keys (and how I’m so tired of cooking AND I was just telling another lady that I just haven’t had anything to write about on this blog).

Anyway, typically when I loose my keys they are in one of three places: the front door lock, the garage door lock, or the van door lock. After today I would have to say one of four places. For the events of today reminded me that I have “lost” my keys in another place before. The events of today were not entirely unknown to me.  The difference was in the details and the level of embarrassment that ensued. However, today I learned my lesson and am taking measures to ensure that within my power, today doesn’t happen again.

So, as I mentioned I’ve been really tired of cooking. I actually spent part of the morning  internally bemoaning about having to think of something to make for lunch.  The last two Sunday’s someone has treated us to lunch, so the kids now think that is a part of our Sunday routine (the real routine is to eat lunch at home then take a nap).  They wanted to go out to eat, but I could not justify that in my head, so I do what I usually do to justify “needless” spending on food cause I’m too lazy to cook.  I went to the grocery store and bought corn dogs (for Noah) and fish sticks (for me). Moriah had a free personal pan pizza coupon. Grocery shopping is always justified.

Anyway, I had to swing by our house to get her coupon. While I was inside I started my food and Noah’s food in the oven so we all could eat at the same time and not have to wait 20 minutes to eat together.  I locked the door, got in the van and off to The Hut we went. While waiting for the pizza we went to a garage sale just to look around. That isn’t important to the story, it’s just a detail about me: I like to try to be efficient with my time and didn’t want to stand around for 15 minutes in a stinky Pizza Hut. So The Girl gets her little pizza (which smelled really good to Noah and me cause we were really hungry) and off we go home. Perfect timing. Our food should be done, her pizza is hot and I’m starving for my fish sticks.

We get out of the van, Noah lingers and we have a little discussion about how he can wait until after lunch to play outside. I have an internal debate about if I should leave the garage door open since we’ll be back out in a few minutes and decide to close it cause it ain’t like we live in the nicest part of town.  Just as I made it to the steps and the garage door motor made its final grind.

“shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, SHOOT! Dang it! Crap! UGH! I can’t believe I just did that!”

My keys were still in the van. The van was in the garage. The garage was locked. My cell phone (don’t get me started on my cell phone issues) was inside our house.  Our resident manager wasn’t home from church yet.  I tried the patio door. I tried using my super human strength to open the garage door (if my kid were trapped under there, I’m sure that door would have opened under my power). I said a sweet little prayer to my Big Daddy and commenced to calling myself a ditz.

I wouldn’t have been so flustered if it weren’t for the fishsticks, corn dogs and waffle fries burning in the oven.  I asked my neighbor if I could try his emergency release key (which I’m convinced they invented for people like me) cause mine was in the house.  His didn’t work on my door.  You might not be surprised that someone else’s key did not work, but knowing where we live, we were surprised that his key didn’t work.

Then I went to the neighbor that lives right next to us. The one that knows Noah’s name really well cause he hears it all the time. He’s a stay-at-home dad seasonally and his wife was at work.  He didn’t have his little round key, but he let us come in (Bonus: I got to play with their little baby and got her to clap and laugh for me).  I felt like a burden and oh so embarrassed, but I think he was excited for the chance to solve a problem.  I know how he must feel being at home all day with his little girl.

He figured he could get to our place through his attic. He borrowed a flashlight from our neighbor, got a chair and tried to get up.It was cute. He put gloves and a jacket on and was going to crawl through the attic to open our door. And all I could think about was “just how messy is my house?” He couldn’t get in. He mentioned that if he were a couple of inches taller (he’s about 5’9″) he could have gotten in. He looked disappointed.

Anyway, I finally got in. The resident manager finally came home and she let me in.  My food was burned, but my favorite cookie sheet is still in great shape (worth every dollar).  I’m still embarrassed and thankful I didn’t break down in tears.

I have now added my house keys to my car keys. That was a winter trick so I could start my car to warm up and then have my house keys available to lock the door, and so I could check my mailbox without turning off the car, and so if I locked my car keys, I could at least get inside. OR if I locked my house keys I could at least go for a ride. Obviously the latter didn’t work out too well today, but it has helped in the past.

I had so many title options for this post:

  • How I learned I DO live in a secure building
  • 15 Reasons I’m Dumber Than I Look
  • If I had a dollar for every time I had a missing key issue
  • Quite possibly the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to me (second is when I belched while singing on stage)
  • God’s relatively harmless way of giving me something to blog about

So, I made more fish sticks and more corn dogs.  And I ate my fish sticks and some boxed mac n cheese (this is secretly one of my favorite meals for the nostalgia and the don’t-pay-attention-to-the-label-goodness) I kind of feel like this is one of those stories that when told, people are sorry that you were embarrassed, but are secretly shaking their heads and rolling their eyes at your utter ditziness.

Well, there you have it.  I didn’t not reveal my finer moments here. I love fish sticks and boxed mac n cheese. I lose my keys often. In one out of four places. I get locked out of my house while food is cooking in the oven, or locked out of my car while it is running. But that’s what makes me human.