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After posting last night I pulled everything out of my bag and emptied it out on the floor. Still no keys. Sadly I put everything back in and collapsed into bed hoping it would all be better in the morning. After all this was no time to panic. Okay, so it was the only key I have for Polo, and it’s micro-chipped to work the immobiliser, but there was still hope.
Dead on eight this morning I called Hell to see if they’d been handed into Customer Service. No such luck, although I believe I caused them some amusement. You see it’s not just a little key I lost. It was my house key, car key, pen light, and three medium sized key rings.
I emptied my bag again, pulling the lining out to check there were no holes my keys could have fallen through. Nothing.
Hubby calls and tells me that to get a new micro-chipped key attuned to Polo’s immobiliser will probably cost about £50 and we’d have to get Polo delivered to the garage. I don’t know how much that would cost, but I think it would be expensive. So I empty my bag again. No keys.
At nine I call the police station to see if my keys had been handed in. I would have called them before, but they were closed. Don’t even get me started on that. My keys hadn’t been handed in, which wasn’t surprising as they closed before I even left for work last night, but they would keep an eye out for them.
It was then I decided to go look for them myself. After all, it was dark when I looked last night. I called my MIL and asked her to baby-sit while I went to search for my keys. My MIL is a lovely woman, she didn’t even titter. It helps that she is as dappy as me. I have found a new appreciation for that.
While I waited for her to arrive I found out the plastic copy of the car key which, although it wouldn’t allow me to drive the car away, would at least let me retrieve the library books I have to return today. I then found the spare front door key, so I could let her in.
This is important, as it was when I was putting the plastic car key into my bag that I caught a glimpse of something shiny. As my MIL looked on I slowly pulled my keys from my bag. The side pocket I had checked repeatedly last night. Holding them gently in my hands, as if holding something truly fragile, I stared in shock.
“Well,” said my wonderful MIL who still hasn’t laughed at my stupidity. “At least you’ve found them. That’s all that matters.”
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So, the day started out pretty well. I awoke on time for once, got the chores done and had time to create my IJ account. I should have known it would all go terribly wrong. Not all at once of course, but that slow, slippery slope towards disaster. They say things come in threes.
First Bear tried to get me arrested. ‘How does a two-year-old do that?’ you ask. Well, I shall tell you - by announcing loudly, in the middle of Tesco, that Mummy broke her leg. Bear’s leg isn’t broken, it’s never been broken, and certainly not by me. In spite of the lack of evidence in the form of a cast I was followed by suspicious eyes while I completed my shopping. I blame Cbeebies. Education is obviously not always a good thing.
The next thing that I really should have taken in warning waited until 10pm, and I was in hell (also known as work). I was stacking the cereals and the cardboard was strewn about the aisle as it always is at that time of night. As I walked across the sea of cardboard carrying a large box of Weetabix, the cardboard moved. One leg went one way, the other choose the opposite direction, and I end up doing the splits on the floor. I think it’s worth mentioning that I am ‘no pixie’ and women of my stature aren’t made to do the splits. And what do you think my wonderful colleagues did as I tried to get myself out of this predicament? Did they help me? No, they laughed their arses off. I shall remember this for years to come - after all an elephant never forgets.
And so we reached mid-night. Time to go home. We all race upstairs, grab our bags from our lockers, and head for the front door. All of us reach into our bags simultaneously. The other girls pull out their car keys. I don’t. They’re not there. I pull my bag apart. Nappies, sweetie wrappers, letters, baby wipes, phone, mp3, reins, purse and painkillers all come tumbling out in my frantic search, but no keys. I search the changing rooms, the toilets, and the canteen to no avail. They’re not outside in the bushes on my way out either. My car is locked, and it’s still there, so I know I haven’t left them in the ignition or door. I am forced to concede that I will not find them tonight. I can only hope that when I phone Hell tomorrow morning I will discover that they have been handed in, and locked away by customer services overnight. If not, I am completely screwed.
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Well, this would be that awkward first post. Hi.
I guess it would be appropriate to tell you a little about myself. I’m twenty-six, married with a two year old daughter. Most of the time I take care of her, but three nights a week I don my polyester costume and become… Faceless Supermarket Worker. It’s an ugly job but someone has to do it.
Hubby, who’s had the dubious pleasure of being married to me for the last five years, is difficult to describe - although most people use the word ‘miserable’. Think Victor Meldrew without the wrinkles.
Our daughter, Bear, has decided she is a pink fairy. In fact she is a pink everything apparently, right down to her hiccups. I don’t know where I went wrong, but I suspect my sister of brainwashing her while babysitting.
So that’s me. Nice to meet you.
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frustrated
embarrassed
uncomfortable