I had never lost a key in my life. Never “laid them down somewhere” or “left them somewhere” or “forgot to pick them up.” I always knew where my keys were at all times because I am a person who, if I don’t have special spots for certain items, I’ll never find them. Keys, eyeglasses, purse. . . I always know where they are.

Well, there was that one time I put my purse on top of the car and remembered it ten miles from the house. Thank goodness for honest people who find purses on the side of the road and look inside for a phone number and call it and don’t laugh until you’re well gone and can’t hear. But that was a long time ago. I’ve been years without losing keys. Years.

I am no spring chicken, so that’s a long time without losing keys.

Therefore, I suppose it was a matter of time.

My keys disappeared last summer and I still haven’t found them. Somewhere, someone has access to my house, my car, my mailbox, my Marsh discounts, and my prescriptions. Not to mention that he/she can lock and unlock my car from across a crowded room.

The thing is, those keys have to be in this house somewhere. I got home, didn’t I?

Therefore, theoretically, the keys are not lost. They are just playful, and hiding.

Whatever, today I gave up, and used my sweet MIL’s Christmas gift to buy a new set. I can now press a button and figure out which of those ten thousand maroon vehicles is mine open my car’s doors from across the lot without having to set down my bag of groceries to fumble in my pocket for the loose spare key.

You know what this means, of course. In a day or two, the original set of keys will show up. That will be good, because we can always use a spare set. I only wish the remote came with a buzzer. Remember those ‘clapper’ commercials? Yeah, like that.

A sugar-free ice cream bar is calling my name. I must answer lest it be heard and devoured by someone other than me. Oh wait, I’m home alone.

Oh yeah.