So I tear through the house like a green banshee, rip the place apart, get all "No wire hangers" Mommy Dearest crazy, and I still don't find them.
I freak out about my keys. I might not know where my wallet is, there's no money pr personal data to be had from stealing it, but if I loose my keys I go bonkers.
And you know what? When I was in medical school I did a rotation in Portsmouth, which was really far away from where I lived in Belpre. The last day, I'm all packed up and ready to go home but the doc I'm following wants my help one last time in surgery. I change and since I don't have a locker I put my clothes and keys on the bench in the locker room. And when I get back, my keys are gone. Nowhere. I had to call a locksmith to get a key for my car and hope my landlord was home to let me in my apartment after my three hour drive. The moral of all of this is that I LIVED. The earth didn't end because I lost my keys. But I'm still nuts when it comes to them.
So in my riot through the house I finally decide to return to look in my purse again. They are there. They were all along. Every time this happens, they are always in my purse where I ALWAYS put them. I guess the moral to this story is that I am a little nuts, the keys are always in the purse, take a chill pill. Or a little goblin is messing with me. One or the other.
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