My husband bought me a ring…
I will admit it, keys are a problem, mainly finding them when I want to go out is a problem. The children are pros at looking for them 7 minutes before the bus leaves, ignoring my sweary, stressy craziness, sprinting hell for leather to the bus stop with 4 minutes to go, leaving the apartment unlocked and then re-assuring me it’s ok, for me to find them 2 minutes later in my inside pocket/bag/pocket I’ve already looked in.
All this has changed with the magic key ring. It is the best present I have ever had. Brownie points to the husband. I wanted an eternity ring, he bought me a key ring. Almost the same, (hmm) but I actually love it just as much. It is not one of those fancy light up singing ones which you can locate with the pressing of another button (because I would lose that immediately), it is a blue smooth disc with a G on it. That’s it. But my tactile senses love it and somehow it has made me be organised with the keys. I only leave them in the pot by the front door. When I pick them up, I have taken to putting them in my right pocket. If I’m not sure I can feel the disc inside my pocket and it makes me feel better. Yes, I know this makes me sound like a bit of a wierdo, but I’d rather that than the thrice weekly tearful shouting at the children followed by a long and crazy rant to the husband on the phone because I cannot find my keys, again.
In fact, I am lying, I have had one of those days since I got the magic key ring. I had blocked it from memory. I got back from the school run in double quick time, terrified that the apartment would have been turned over by (god knows who?) the old lady upstairs? the nice man from the pizza shop next door? my neighbour who is out at work? Anyway, I was stressed, I rang the husband, we went through the historical palaver, checked all the pockets of all my coats (I’d like to add here that it is cold, so you need lots of coats, I’m not some kind of mad fashionista), all my bags (mainly dog-eared rucsacs) etc etc and nothing. In a last ditch attempt, he said he would check his bag just in case and did not ring me back. I assumed it was the normal thing. I had put them somewhere barmy. I checked the fridge, the washing machine, under all the sofa cushions, in the dog bed. Nope. Nada. Nothing. I collapsed on the sofa, distraught at the loss of my magic key ring.
After lunch and a few stressful hours, I rang my husband back. Oh, he says all relaxed, yes I did find them in my bag, I don’t know how they got there. I didn’t have time to ring you back because I had to go into a meeting. A torrent of expletives flowed. Brownie points deducted. Eternity ring back on the wishlist.
There is now a new rule. No-one touches my keys except me. This way the magic of the key ring cannot be diminished. It’s working so far.