Lost Keys

     I stopped at the store on my way home last night, to pick up a little supper and this and that.  It was around seven p.m., dark and near 25°F.

     A chicken salad sandwich, some sliced deli ham and a bag of coffee beans for later, I was back at my car, reaching for my...  No car keys.

     After misplacing keys for years, I started keeping my house and work keys on a lanyard, clipped to my purse with a little clip like a double carabiner.  My car key and its ring go on the same clip.  Sometimes I fumble it, and it ends up jumbled in my purse.

     I did a quick dig-through in the main compartment of my purse.  Nothing.  I looked over the area around my car, very carefully.  Nothing.

     Back into the store, eyes on the sidewalk and floor.  Nothing.  I retraced my steps through the place.  Nothing.  I found a quiet corner and checked through my purse again, as well as I could without emptying it.  Still nothing.

     I let the manager know I had lost a key, in case someone turned it in, and texted Tam: Lost my car key.  Walking home.

     It's a brisk walk in good weather, several blocks.  In the dark and cold, it's lousy.  Still, I was layered up under a warm coat and I had my heavy gloves; any more, I carry a pair of thin, nice-looking leather gloves for working keys and doorknobs, and windproof motorcycle gauntlets for when  I don't need to do fine manipulation.

     Switching to the warm gloves and settling my hat firmly on my head, I set out for home.  It's not much of a hat, a beat-up denim gardening hat with a wide brim, but it's better than nothing.  Double-time up the alley to the next street north, where a gust of wind blew my hat off as soon as I rounded the corner.

     I managed to grab it before it got away and tightened up the chinstrap.  It quickly became clear that I was well-bundled -- except for my ears.  They got cold and stayed cold, but as long as I could still feel them, they were okay, right?  Step, step step.  I kept moving.

     As I approached Roseholme Cottage, a tall person was coming towards me, all bundled up, moving purposefully.  Closer, closer....  Tamara!  "Where you headed?"

     "The store!  I don't want to have to report your car missing."

     "Do you have the spare key?"

     She frowned at me.  "No."

     "I'll get it and catch up."

     "We still have to find your key."

     She was right.  I headed on home.  Tam went the other way.

     At the house, I put groceries away, spoke to the cats, and, as a last resort, dumped my purse out on the bed.  No keys.  I checked through my purse just to make sure and at the bottom of the open compartment where I keep a couple of spiral notebooks for work and two sets of clip-on sunglasses (also cough drops, a pocket rule and a magnifying glass; don't judge), there was a key-shaped lump.  It was wedged into a corner.  And yes, it was my car key.  Oh.

     I texted Tam, Found it, grabbed a fleece ear-warmer and a knit muffler, got coat and gloves together and set out again, quick as I could march.  I was facing the wind part of the time and it wasn't fun, but the added insulation kept it from being entirely miserable.  My bad knee was throbbing slightly, but, hey, what's a little exercise?

     Tam was headed out of the store as I headed in.  I asked, "Did you get my text?"

     "No."

     "I, uh, found my key."

     She gave me a Look.

     "Thank you for your help!"

     "I didn't do anything."

     "Hey, moral support.  It counts."  It does, too.  I hadn't been looking forward to the cold walk back to my car, and even less so to having a car key floating around in the great unknown.  We got in my car and returned home uneventfully, me to dinner and Tam back to her warm bed.