Have you seen my keys?

“Hi, my name is Leigh. I live in the house on the corner. You don’t happen to have a bottle and a diaper I could borrow, do you?”

This is they way I met my new neighbors seven years ago. I had locked myself out of the house with an infant and toddler in tow, not to mention a husband who was a state away at the time.

Ever since my dad tossed me my first set, keys have been the bane of my existence. I’ve been on the receiving end of many an argument regarding them.

As a teenager, I locked my keys in the car countless times. Why we didn’t have another set, I don’t know, but I used to dread making that phone call to my dad. Eventually, he got tired of coming to my rescue personally and began to send two guys who worked for him. Their names were Milt and Bones, and I was always glad to see them show up with a clothes hanger to jimmy the lock. They never fussed at me or made me feel silly. I guess because they were still on the clock, but, no matter, I will always be grateful to them for that. The only time I saw them shake their heads was the day I got my car stuck on a stump in my backyard. Although, I think they were silently impressed!

Either it must run in the family, or it is payback to me, because my daughter had the same issue when she turned 16. My husband could never understand my infinite patience with her, or why I would drop everything to run the extra set of keys to her. Apparently, he has never been in the “Key Club,” which caused me to wonder, “Is it only women who have this issue?”

I’ve heard story after story, and, yes, they’ve all been from females. I think it’s because we have so much on our plate--kids, work, dinner, errands. And, of course, at age 16--boys. I’m sure there are men who have locked themselves out. There has to be. Please, if you know of one, I would love to hear of it because my husband would squeeze down the chimney before he’d ever admitted it to me.

Which brings me to my latest key episode. Being the naturally sweet wife that I am, I started the car for my husband. Okay, I only do that, in part, so he’ll take the kids to school. Regardless, it was nice and toasty when he got in car and left. I decided to take advantage of the quiet time by taking a shower. I was almost in when I thought, “Did I lock the door?” Yes, Hitchcock’s Psycho made that much of an impression on me.

After I got out of my leisurely shower, I noticed my husband had returned from taking the kids to school and was still in the car. Hmmm…he must be listening to the engine run. Isn’t that what men do?

So, I continued to get dressed, checked my e-mail, did some laundry, put on my make-up. You know, stuff women do, when I heard the doorbell ring repeatedly. Uh oh, not good. I instantly remembered that the car’s key ring (for reasons unbeknownst to me) was missing a house key. I had locked my husband out in the cold. He forgave me but couldn’t understand why I locked the door in the first place. Apparently, only women do that, too.

I suppose I’ll be making a copy soon, but, in the meantime, I’m looking forward to the day when keys are obsolete. I’ll take a retinal scan any day. At least I can’t lock my eyes in the car. However, if I did, and Milt and Bones were still around, I bet they would jimmy them out, blow them off and put them right back into my head, somehow without managing to laugh.