Oh, it’s just so discouraging; I’ve inherited my father’s losing-the-keys gene! I guess I knew this all along, but in the last years, by diligently, frantically trying to cover up this disability, I almost convinced myself it was not so.
You have to understand… My father was so predictably without-keys that the moment he announced it was “Time to go” and walked out the door in the direction of the car, the rest of the family would disperse themselves in different directions throughout the house in search of the car keys, house keys, boat keys, whatever. A few moments later my father would re-enter the house with a puzzled look on his face and announce the surprising fact that his keys were not in his bag. Gosh, do I miss him at times.
Yesterday though, after a trip to the post office I came back home and discovered that I lost my keys along the way. We are talking about a five-minute journey here. Fortunately, I managed to take a circular and convoluted, but ever so scenic, tour through many crowded city streets on the way there and back, thus guaranteeing the task of finding the keys impossible.
In a moment of complete honesty, I had to admit to myself, and to my husband (who neverever even momentarily misplaces his keys because he as an Ironclad System that he neverever wavers from), that I am a pathetic key-loser. Oh, what a sad and miserable thing this is. If only it was possible to add a tinsy tiny chromosome onto my losing-the-keys gene and thus render this fault of nature distinct.
When I mentioned this dream of mine to my ever so patient Limpet of Luebeck, he said that maybe it would be better just to invent a key-dispenser and hang it in the entrance hall wall. Sort of like the coin dispensers the bus drivers have. What do you think, could that work?
If you were able to magically change one or your boy-is-this-ever-annoying genes, which would it be?
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