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Perils of Joan and Keys

 The Perils of Joan and her Keys

I was born in the State of Infancy, grew up in the State of Poverty, and it appears I will die in the State of Confusion.


 As a young person, I always wondered what old people do when they retire. They always seem so busy but I couldn't figure out why. Now I know. They spend all their time hunting things they lose or forget. (I'm not retired, but I'm old, and it still works that way.)


 I have never had a good relationship with Keys. Keys on a piano and the key any given song is written in - I can handle. But keys that unlock doors and cars are my bugaboo. Take today for example, oh, why not just take the last week.


 It all started last Thursday night. I grabbed the church van key out of my keybox near the door and laboriously made my way half a block down past my house, hobbling along with my cane to make sure I didn't fall, only to find once I got there that I had the wrong bunch of keys.


 Made my way back to the house, but the bunch of keys I needed was nowhere to be seen.


 I now had a dual problem....no key with which Lessa could drive the van to Bennett Spring Church, and no key to hand over to Darla so she could clean the church the next day. (I keep all church keys on the same keyring.)


 I called Darla because she had last used my keys to clean the church 2 weeks ago and I knew she had given them back to me, but hoped she would remember where I put them. That's what I pay her for, her good memory. Unfortunately, she was a few days older now and SHE couldn't remember what purse I was carrying when she returned the keys to my purse 2 weeks ago. I see I need to adjust her wages.


 Somehow I found a set to use but can't remember where - I am thinking I went to the barbershop and got them from Milan.


 After the service I called her and asked her where she wanted me to put the keys so she would have them Friday morning. She told me to drop them off at her house and put them in her mailbox on her porch so she would have them early that morning. So after Leesa brought me home, she drove down to Darla's house, less than a block away and put the keys in her mailbox on her porch.


 It had been a busy week and I had great delusions (it turned out) that I could sleep in on Friday. The phone rang at 7:30 am. (not my idea of sleeping in). It was Darla. She said, "I'm standing on your porch looking in your mailbox for the church keys and they are not there."


 In my Christlike and pastoral voice (I am Darla's pastor, after all) I said, Leesa left them at your house last night.


 I had forgotten how much Darla had aged in the last 2 weeks because she said "Is that what we decided on? I thought I told you to leave them in your mailbox." So much for sleeping in! :-(


 Fast forward to yesterday. When I did my annual cleaning on my desk, I found my set of church keys.


 Now for today. My car is in Lynn's body shop. (He has one bay reserved for Oakland Heritage drivers.)


 I was trying to get my Avon order in by the 11 a.m. deadline. I did as much as I could at home last night and this morning but still had some orders and books at the store, so I drove the church van up to the store, being very careful to take along my house/car keys, too, so I could get into the store, and back into the house. I was so proud of myself for remembering that.


 I went into the store, loaded up the stuff I needed, took it out to the church van, then went back in to get my purse. Locked the door behind me, jumped into the van, then realized I had left my phone inside the store. (By the way, I lost my phone twice last week, too.)


 I jumped out of the van, unlocked the store, went in and checked and couldn't find my phone. I called it from Milan's phone, didn't hear it ring so knew it had to be out in the church van after all.


 I went back out to the church van, only to find I had absentmindedly locked it behind me a minute ago and guess where my van keys were? I didn't know. I only knew they weren't in my purse and they weren't inside the store.


 I asked Milan if he had his set with him. No. Why would he need church keys at the barber shop? But he handed me his truck keys and told me I would have to drive it home.


 Fine. But the I realized that wouldn't do me any good because the stuff I needed to upload my order to Avon was now securely locked inside the church van. I had no reason to go home.


 I decided to dump everything in my gigantic purse onto my desk there to search one more time for the church van keys. I didn't find them but I found my house keyring, and my store keyring, and a strange ring of keys I had never seen before and didn't have a clue where they came from.


 I took them in to Milan to see if he recognized them. With as much patience as he could muster (there were customers in the barber shop, after all) he looked at me as a father would look at a totally helpless child and said, "Jo, those are my truck keys which I just gave you a few minutes ago."


 With that, he jerked them out of my hand, almost as if he suspected I might lose them immediately. Whatever made him think that?


 So I called Lois and asked her if she was coming to town soon and if so would she bring me HER set of church van keys.


 She is used to this, and with a deep sigh, said she would be there shortly.


 When she came, she looked in the church van and couldn't find the keys there, so after I put up a $50 bond, she gave me her keyring so I could drive home, and left.


 I went back into the shop, looked everywhere, couldn't find the keys, so decided to look one more time in the church van. Hopped up into it (you've never seen me hop with a cane?) and there they were....in the cupholder on top of the console between the 2 front seats.


 Nanananananana...she's as bad off as I am.


 One more time in the store to check on all keys, and cell phone, and finally out to the church van for the drive home.


 I am worn out. I still don't have my Avon order done and it's 3:35. But Darla and I did get 2 fresh strawberry cakes made in the interim.


 And that's the real "Key" to my success - a week's supply of sugar!!!!!

©  Joan Rowden Hart 2005



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