All Keyed Up


Unfortunately, the man who holds the key to my heart also holds the keys to about twenty-three thousand other things. Apparently he thinks it’s not manly if he doesn’t own at least as many keys as he does tools. I bet he doesn’t even know what half of them go to and that many of them haven’t  unlocked anything since the Summer of ’92. Even so, they’re all treated like sacred relics.

Recently, he thought himself clever by splitting his keys up into three separate sets. So in other words, multiply the number of times he already loses his keys by three. He now keeps the Jeep key by itself, and by itself it’s gotten lost in several places including stores, the house, and the beach. It also went through the washing machine, twice.

Speaking of his Jeep key, we recently went on a day-long bike trip. I reminded my husband that day of how easily it could slip out of his pocket if it were by itself. Yet he was adamant that it only made sense to keep the key separate. When we finished our bike trip and got back to the Jeep he couldn’t find his key. After a very long escapade of backtracking all over the place on our bikes we finally found it. Did he learn his lesson? Not a chance.

He also frequently loses his other sets of keys, most recently at the grocery store, but he was boastfully proud as he still had the jeep key in his pocket. He’s also locked the Jeep key in the Jeep on several occasions.

I guess I really shouldn’t complain  because a least his key situation isn’t embarrassing like it once was–he used to keep a set of toenail clippers on his keychain. He denies he did this, and will swear up and down they were only fingernail clippers, but don’t believe him.

I live in fear that one day he’ll become one of those old men with a twelve thousand keys hanging off his belt loop, the likes that can only to be rivaled by a jail warden’s collection. Hopefully—if that day ever comes—the toenail clippers won’t make it back to complete the ensemble.


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