My husband has a thing about keys. He can't seem to keep them in his possession. This man, the love of my life, lost his keys in the snow outside my apartment in the first month that we knew each other. That was November, and those keys didn't show up till spring. I should've known.
Actually, I should've known the night we met, because he left his wallet behind in the club where we were, and when we went out to eat, guess who had to pay. That was in the first few hours we after we met. Yep, I should've known.
He had his twentieth anniversary of losing his keys to the snow queen a few years back, and celebrated by, yet again, losing his keys in the snow -- this time on the campus of Butler University. Never found those ones, either. ::sigh:: Some things never change.
Hubby gave me some ribbing a couple of weeks ago, when I locked my keys in my van when we were visiting dd's horse. Of course, I gently reminded him of the time that I had to leave work, because my beloved had locked himself out of his van while standing outside the bank -- with the van running. In the middle of winter. He head just left the YMCA, so there he stood, in shorts, with wet hair, shivering. A hapless victim of the snow queen, yet again. At least I chose warm weather, and had somewhere to get out of the weather, even if it was a barn full of horses.
But the real kicker was the time that we went to the American Heart Association's Bowlathon. We went with another couple, and bowled to our heart's content. (Pun intended, or not, you decide.) As I recall, I won a cookbook, too. But the highlight of the night was when we left. It was about 1 am, and the north wind was blowing cold -- it was about 20 below. No joke. The coldest night of the winter. We go out to the van, and discover that it's locked -- I don't have the keys, so I look at him. He points inside, where I can see my keys dangling from the steering column. "I left them in there for safekeeping." Yep. The best way to keep your keys safe, according to my dear darling husband, is to lock them in the van. On the coldest night of the year. I look at him and say "just how are we supposed to get in?"
Well, my Mensa wannabee husband says, with a rather hoity tone, "we have keyless entry," and plugs in our four digit code, and was met with......nothing. Several tries later, he realizes that he had left the headlights on when we went inside, so now the battery is dead, with our keys inside it. And we are 45 minutes from home. At 1 a.m. With the bowling alley closing. Yep. It wasn't pretty.
Ended up having to call a cab, in order to get home. We made the hub sit up front with the cab driver, who listened to the defendant tell the story, looking for a sympathetic ear. He didn't get it. I'm not even sure the cab driver spoke English, but even he looked at the man like he was nuts. And Marty, our friend, who was best man at our wedding, just calls up to the front seat and says, "hey man, face it, you screwed up."
Silence, the rest of the way home, except from the hubby, who to this day still thinks that the real problem wasn't that he left the keys in the car for safekeeping, but was that the headlights got left on, leaving the battery dead. The Snow Queen won, yet again.