Earlier this week I put the kids in the car to take them to camp, and discovered I could not find my keys. I could have sworn I'd seen them in the front door the evening before, so I immediately called Joel and accused him of accidentally taking my keys with him to work (which he had done once in the past, so it was not an entirely out-of-the-blue accusation. Joel checked his pockets, his car, and insisted he did not have my keys and that it had been his set of keys that had been in the front door the night before.
I didn't quite believe him, but at his suggestion I ransacked all the kitchen drawers till I found a spare car key so I could get the kids to camp. By this time, half an hour had elapsed, putting me significantly behind in my morning schedule and making me very irritable!
I walked back into the house, dropped my purse on the counter, and then all of a sudden spotted my keys -- in my purse. They had fallen into an inside pocket instead of just loose on the bottom where they normally are. Oops.
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