Dear Chris, Lifecoach Esq: (I can call you Chris, right? Or should I go with Chris, ESQ or something?) Never mind, I’m going to call you Caroline.
So, Caroline, o! my life coach: I have a pressing problem that I need your life coach skills to fix.
Uh. Where are my car keys?
Aunt (motherfucking) Becky
P.S. The (motherfucking) is silent.
Dear Aunt (motherfucking) Becky:
I’m pretty sure I can’t wait until car keys become a thing of the past like roll down windows and frosted Christmas trees.
I’ve got one of those cars where you don’t need to put the key in the ignition, you just need to have the key near the car.
This means I forget my keys more often, and then spend ten minutes convincing the car that the key are in my pocket. “Come on, I’m late! They are right in my pocket you just can’t detect them underneath that wad of cash. Why are you laughing? I could have cash! It’s possible!”
You know what I hate?
Lost car key stories. Why do people tell stories about losing their keys? I always know the ending…THE KEYS ARE FOUND! If not, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, because you’d be stuck in your house and I’d be sitting in this deli alone.
Also, I hate that the stories also end with the expression “they are always in the last place you look.” Of course they are because if you found them you stop looking for them. You don’t find your keys and go “let me keep looking in places in case other keys need to be found.” Whatever you lose is always in the last place you look because you stop looking. If they were in the first place you look, they aren’t lost, they are right where you put them.
I might be drunk.