I was given this key ring by Craig following an event few years ago when I lost my keys. I looked everywhere for them: the shelf in the kitchen where I used to dropped them on, the bottom of the hundreds of bags I had, the laundry basket in case they fell out of a pair of trousers…
After a few days it was obvious, they were gone. Lost forever.
So I had a new set cut and when I came home later that day, I found them… on the key holder in our entrance hall... Obvious place, you will say. Well, not if you don't ever use the key holder. Hence the key ring "speak slowly, I am blonde" because apparently blondes do that ALL the time !
Craig used to constantly remind me to put them there so it was obvious that I wasn't going to do it. So it is more likely he put them there after finding them on the shelf in the kitchen and therefore CONFUSED MY BRAIN. Since then I have had that key ring on my set of keys that he "lovingly" gave me…
Not so long ago, I added a comment on Sally’s blog post at Who’s the Mummy? where she talks about leaving her keys on her front door, something I do at least once a week at least. I don’t know how it happens but after making sure I get the kids, the bags and the buggy inside, whilst preventing the dog from stepping outside I leave the keys on the door…
I usually have them back when a nice neighbour or the community officer knocks at the door and gives me a lecture of how dangerous it is that I leave my keys on the door, blah blah blah…
My answer is always to smile and be utterly grateful they saved my life. Usually when they see the size of the dog trying to barge past me to sniff their items of clothing or the sandwiches in their bag, they understand that I don’t really risk much. Some malicious person trying to open my door when he is not invited, would probably swear and run when Nala moves towards him. Just saying.
This morning I did something much better and took it another level though. When I usually leave the keys outside while I am inside, this time I left the keys on the door not closed properly and left the house for the preschool run…
Its only when I started rummaging through my bag after drop off that I realised:
“F*CK!! B****CKS!! TRIPPLE B****CKS!!!” No time to chat, time to RUN HOME!!!
I had horror visions as I was running pushing the buggy:
I am going to go home and someone will be dead in my lounge, eaten by the dog.
I am going to get home and Nala will be wandering out in the street while someone is emptying the house (more likely).
I am going to die of a bloody heart attack running in flip flops, pushing a buggy, under 30 Degrees Celsius, without training and with a very high level of stress (most probable ending).
While I was running I called our neighbour who by luck was just round the corner and managed to get back before me to save my keys, my home but most importantly my dog and my heart!
So all I have to say is that I might never do it again (and can't promise) but thank god I have great neighbours!