My puppy, Cleo. I suspect she ate the key, but who could be mad at that sweet face?
I made The Hubs switch cars with me last year. I felt that as the primary hauler of all the things, I should have the vehicle that was actually capable of hauling all the things. The kids were growing and couldn’t stand to sit next to each other in the backseat even one second longer. And then my uterus got the better of me and I adopted a second Great Pyrenees to round out the family. My giant kids and giant dogs just didn’t fit in my mid-size SUV anymore because someone was always touching (or sitting on top of) someone else. I needed a bungee cord to contain us and more seat belts.
The Hubs was driving a Lincoln Navigator and I thought it a total waste of cabin space. He didn’t need to fetch weekly groceries and lug camp chairs for soccer practices and games like I did. He didn’t need those sweet leather seats, either. Do you know how much hair Pyrs shed? You just can’t get that much dog hair out of fabric seats! The Navigator also has a DVD player, six cup holders, a sunroof and extra car lighter adapters to charge all the electronics.
The War Wagon, as I affectionately call her, is large and in charge. Her only drawback was having only one key and one electronic key fob. It came with a spare, but we lost it in the move. So when I took possession of the Navigator, The Hubs was very serious about the key and fob.
“Whatever you do, don’t lose this key. Do you have any idea how much it will cost to replace?”
And things have been going fine with me and the lone key until two months ago when I dropped it on the driveway. The electronic fob split into three pieces and the plastic grip on the end of the key broke in half. I tried to Scotch tape it all together with a hair elastic but that didn’t work worth a flip, so basically I have been walking around with the housewife’s version of a shiv.
Now I have to stab the door open with the key because I don’t have the clicker. And it’s a pain when I am trying to hold onto the leashes and a cup of coffee when I load the kids in the morning. I yelled at The Hubs about it, demanding that he DO something about the state of my life.
“I feel like I am driving a car in the 1970’s!” I yelled at him. But he did not care. He just laughed and got into my former car and piloted on to work. For those of you too young to remember, there used to be two large metal keys for a car, one for the doors and trunk and one for the ignition. All the windows rolled down by a hand crank. Compared to all the bells and whistles of today’s cars, it felt like a lot of effort!
Now, maybe it was subconscious resentment at work here, but I prefer to think it was just a coincidence following my tantrum. I took the kids to school Friday morning and got home about 9 a.m. I did some housework and laundry until about 12:30 p.m. when the dogs and I were ready to take a spin around town and stop for a delicious glass of half and half tea.
I went to the laundry room to grab my key from its bowl on top of the dryer but it wasn’t there. The dogs and I charged to the kitchen to check the counters and the spot next to the sink where I sometimes leave the shiv as well. Not there, either. I checked my room and the coffee table, next. Now the dogs are worked up into an absolute state about getting to take a car ride. They have been dragging leashes and tennis balls from room to room. I tried to explain to them that we would not be leaving the house after all. If you don’t have dogs, it’s a lot like promising your kids McDonald’s and then not being able to deliver. They were not pleased.
I checked the bathrooms and the kids’ rooms. I checked the inside of all cabinets and the fridge. I even looked inside the vase in my kitchen. I checked the pockets of my clothes and I checked inside the laundry hampers. Nothing. I removed all the cushions from the living room furniture, I checked the garage, outside and peered through the windows of the Navigator just in case I left the key in the ignition.
Then I very reluctantly texted The Hubs.
“Hey! Boy I sure do love you! I hope you are having a great day!” I wrote.
He texted back right away.
“Call me, now.”
So I called him and reluctantly explained the situation. I asked, quite helpfully, if we had a metal detector. He said it didn’t work that way and proceeded to ask if I had checked the laundry room and kitchen and bedrooms and all the pockets. Yes, I said. And the fridge and the garage.
He gave me some locksmith numbers to call and said, “Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, I’m just glad it was you and not me!” Apparently, I don’t let him live it down when he misplaces things.
Over the weekend, The Hubs moved the refrigerator and the washer and dryer, just in case the key had fallen beneath them. Still no luck. I had the locksmith out Monday morning, and $300 later, I had two new ignition keys and a new key fob. The old key still hasn’t turned up, but I expect it will as soon as the check clears the bank. But the dogs and I say it was money well spent! All the searching, coupled with this nice early summer weather, has left us a little parched. If anyone needs us, we’re out getting some tea!