The Key Is Key


Dear Husband,

We seem to have had a couple of issues with keys recently. The first was actually my fault although I blame you and the second was totally not my fault at all. Like how I did that?

The other week, we were faced with yet another snapped key to the garage. When we moved into the house, we had two working keys. Soon after, one snapped in the lock and then there was one. After I got irritated with you however, there were none. And I think it was fair enough that I was irritated with you. I mean, you had finally put the table and chairs that we no longer wish to store on Gumtree but you did a bit of a half arsed job at first. Even you have to admit that.

For starters, you put the listing up without photos. Who buys furniture without looking at it? I know you ultimately meant for there to be photos though because you later wanted to borrow my phone to take and post them (still not sure what was wrong with your phone). Initially though, you had one without the other. Then you realised that you hadn’t listed the measurements either. Who buys furniture without figuring out if it’ll fit first? Instead of going into the garage to finish the job that you started though, you sent me.

Now I know what they say about assumptions. ‘Asume’ makes an ‘as(s)’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’, but I figured that if you expected me to do something you couldn’t be bothered to do, you would have at least have made sure it was possible. Since you had already borrowed my keys (containing the only method of unlocking the garage from the outside) and had not given them back, I thought you would not have been insensitive enough to send me outside to do your bidding if I wasn’t able to gain access. Stupid me. And irritated me. So irritated in fact that I came stomping back into the house to demand the keys before stomping back outside and muttering under my breath whilst I unlocked the garage. At which point I grabbed the handle on the roller door and hoiked it up as hard as I could because I was pissed….and snapped of the key which I had forgotten to take out of the lock first. So like I said. My fault, but I blame you.

Then on Friday, we had another key incident. Right before we were about to go on our first family holiday complete with the oversized puppy and the Genibean, you asked if you could borrow my keys and I realised that I didn’t have them. What proceeded was about 45 minutes of (mostly you) tearing apart the house looking for them. You looked in the back door, in the garage door, in the garage itself, on the dining table, on your dressing table, in my handbag, in the nappy bag, in the camera bag, in my handbag again, in the nursery and in all of the entirely plausible places that they might be.

You looked under the couches, under the cushions, behind the bookcases, under the bed, inside the fridge, inside the freezer, in the dirty washing, around the desk, inside the coffee table and in all of the incredibly unlikely places for them to be. I helped out (in between looking after dog and daughter) and checked a lot of the same places. I rang the neighbors to ask if I’d left the keys at theirs and I tried to figure out what I was doing the last time I had them. I tried to backtrack.  You asked me where I was. You asked me what I was wearing. We’re there any pockets? Did I have a jacket? Did I put them in another bag somewhere?

Still no keys.

So there was a lot of muttering and stressing and frantic searching. Then it finally got to the point that you were resigned to not finding them before we left for the holiday. I was positive they were somewhere safe and we’d find them either packed in the car amongst the luggage or some place we hadn’t already looked at home. I wasn’t sure where that might be exactly as you had pretty much turned the place upside down already but there could still have been stones unturned. So I called the neighbours again to ask them to check on the house periodically and then thought I’d ask you if you had gone through all your pockets…just in case…

Where you found my keys.

Because that’s where you put them after you had borrowed them and not given them back. Which was entirely not a surprise. At which point you were very apologetic and told me that you would never borrow my keys again.

I give that resolution less than a week.

Resolvedly yours,

Your Loving Wife

* Photo taken at Sculptures By The Sea 2011


One thought on “The Key Is Key

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