I Knew It Was Here Somewhere.

You know how you spend an entire Saturday complaining about how you didn’t get the house cleaned up like you wanted to, and then your neighbor calls and talks to your seventeen-year-old, telling him that they have a minor family emergency and could he grab the spare key that you keep at your house and go to her place to shut off the Crock Pot, and then after he says “Sure, no problem” and hangs up, NOBODY CAN FIND THAT KEY ANYWHERE because it never got hung up on the key rack after you let their dogs out the last time they needed you, and after ripping apart nearly everything and swearing that you “just saw it on the desk two weeks ago”, you end up calling your neighbor to make sure that it is indeed a “Crock Pot situation” rather than a “pot on the stove situation”, which means you have extra time to look for the missing key and she says “yes” so you resume looking, and just when you find it in a little metal mesh container on the kitchen desk, you realize that you put it there so it wouldn’t get lost?

Yeah, that.

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