the keys to travelling is remembering the safe place you put them in before taking off.
as usual i thought i had stowed away my keys in a place that i'd never forget, only to discover that i may have done just that.
there was a certain amount of rolling panic that felt quite familiar as i spent the better part of the morning in search of the little bastards.
they were nowhere to be found.
so i sounded the cell phone alarm to the other humans who live in this joint, making them aware of my manstake.
and wouldn't you know it, my pseudo step daughter alix found them in her purse of all places.
now that's a good hiding place because if you have ever looked in that leather junk drawer with straps, finding those keys would be akin to finding waldo in a wisconsin labor union protest.
but to my surprise it turned out i didn't hide them there.
alix apparently plucked them from my regular hiding place (the key rack) so she could drive our beloved prius to take my son and her to my father's 80th birthday party yesterday, which we were suppose to go to originally (a story for a rainy day) but decided against because of the time our plane landed but somehow forgot to tell her that we would not have the limo guy drop us off there (after a 90 minute drive, only to say happy birthday and all pile into the prius for another 90 minute drive home) but instead would be going straight home, but she waited many hours for us to show up under the impression she had a more recent set of facts than those related to her by others, which really didn't make us the most popular adults in her life upon learning her source, who will remain nameless, was rather vague her text message in such a way that could lead one, even the likes of sarah palin, to conclude several scenarios, one being the new set of facts alix thought she had, which apparently when dashed created a little knot about alix's panties, which you can't blame her for really, but let me be the first to tell you when panties get knotted, some tend to forget things in all the emotion commotion, like putting my keys back in the place i had hid them—the location i would not forget—namely the key rack, which is a far more easy place to remember than let's say the old steamer chest tucked behind boxes, the tops of which are used as the public bathrooms by the flying squirrelendas (another story), in the far corner of the attic, where i checked this morning on the off chance that was my hiding place, among other sordid spots scattered about the house, garage and old collapsing chicken coop.
in short, alix and i agreed we are now even.
the point is it's nice to be home again and that my dad had a great birthday party.