This morning I just about had a panic attack. My car keys were not in the basket next to the front door. Two hours of hunting later, they were still nowhere to be found. The hunting involved numerous backpacks, boxes, several suitcases, drawers, and every flat surface in the house.
Since it was now after 0700, I called the local VW dealership. Yes, they can get keys, but I need to bring in several forms of ID and the vehicle registration information (did I mention that the car was locked?).
I drove the car yesterday when dropping off somethings. So obviously I had the keys. Thinking about it, I distinctly remember having them in my hand and tossing them some place obvious. Not where they belonged or anywhere sensible as I have found to my sorrow.
No help for it, I realized either they were packed into something or they had landed in the trash. Once again I went through the suitcases, backpacks and yarn bags. No joy. Time to start on the trash. At least yesterday’s bags were separate from those filled on Saturday. 30 more minutes, filthy hands and nothing in all of the outside bags.
Desperate, I looked in the kitchen trash and the last couple of bags next to the door. You already know the punch line. In the very last bag (and not because it was the last one in which I looked but because it was the last bag) full of scraps of this and that which I had shoveled off my bed in disgust was a hard lump. One each folded up VW key.
Just as I finished moving the car from the drive, the moving van showed up with a couple of charming young men ready to go to work.
As I write this, it is barely two hours later, the packing is done and they are loading the van.
The keys? Clipped to my belt.