Murphy cannot resist my siren song.

Last night, Chris suggested that we get some sort of key-keeping apparatus, seeing as how both of us are in the habit of dropping our keys willy-nilly as soon as we walk through the door. I think, in the millions of times I've entered into my home, my keys have ended up in the same place... oh, let's see... twice? And that's being generous. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't feeling so great when Chris brought that up, or maybe it was because I figured that if I simply willed myself to keep better track of things, I could do it. Whatever if was, I put "key-keeping apparatus" on my to-do list under Donate Blood and Scrub Kitchen Grout.

The sun rose the next morning on our busy home, three little blurs of energy racing around as I tried to get Madelynn and Brady out of the house on time. As we were piling into Chris' car, Maddy remembered that she left something in my car. I told her a rough approximation of where to find my keys, and she retrieved her renegade belongings from my car and was buckled in to Chris' car in minutes. She got to school on time, Chris and I dropped Brady off at pre-school, and then it was back to our house to get ourselves ready for work.

Chris left before I did, and I got ready with plenty of time to do my hair and makeup, iron my work clothes, and finish up some chores around the house. Keen time management isn't a skill I usually posses, so I was really proud of myself for having plenty of time to get everything done. I was ready to walk out the door a full five minutes earlier than normal, even! It was a rare, rare morning.

I grabbed my work clothes, a bottle of water from the fridge, slung my purse over my shoulder, and reached for my keys. My keys. My keys. WHERE THE HELL WERE MY KEYS? I remembered, almost photographically, were I put them the night before, but they weren't there. It took a few minutes of me digging through my purse and eyeing every horizontal surface in my home to remember who had my keys last... Madelynn.

I tried to remember if she ran back inside the house after she grabbed her stuff out of my car, or hopped straight into Chris's. Could she have pocketed my keys? Could they be in Chris's car? They weren't in my car because it was locked, and my keyless entry system won't let the car lock with the keys inside. Cue panic.

I tried calling Chris to see if he could shed some light on the subject, but all eighty-two of my calls went unanswered. I tried calling my grandma, who has my spare set of keys, but she wasn't home. I looked at the clock- if I wanted to get to work on time, I should have been out the door five minutes ago. Cue pandemonium.

As much as I wanted to devote my full attention to finding my keys, I couldn't help but see and hear Chris everywhere I turned. Him: "Honey, we really should designate some place for our car keys." Me: "Meeeeeeh." AL-EFFING-RIGHT, I get it I get it I get it. I have reduced myself to nothing more than a Murphy's Law Ignoring Fate Temptress.

Please, let this be a lesson to everyone out there. Learn from my mistake. When someone sharing a home with you suggests allocating an official Organized Home For Wayward Keys, say yes. Arise instantly and put the plan in action, because if you don't, you're liable to be made an example of the very next morning. Feel free to ignore me- if you like the taste of crow.