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Now, to the blog entry…
Last week, I forgot the keys on top of the car. Again. I’m getting to be notorious for this, and those damned things are expensive. They’re the ones with the beeper ON the key head that cost eighty bucks to replace. Though they’re certainly not the only things I leave on the roof, they are by far the most costly.
Or anyway, so far they’re the most costly. It’s not like I discriminate. I leave trash up there all the time, only noticing it when it flops off my roof as I back out of the garage. I forget drinks, which often wait until we’re barreling down the highway doing seventy to dislodge into somebody else’s windshield. I forget books, which usually slide down the side of the car as soon as I start moving. I’ve left Caroline’s backpack up there a time or two. Basically anything I have in my hands when I go to buckle or unbuckle Sam’s seat or open the car door from the outside is liable to wind up on the roof. And unless I’m having a highly cogent day, I’m unlikely to remember to get them off again. Sam’s still in that awful five point harness which, while presumably great for keeping him alive in the event of an accident, is a pure nightmare as far as installation and removal of the actual child are concerned. I need both hands to do it, and it resembles a medieval torture device when hooked correctly. Half the time, once I’ve won the battle of the car seat, I’ve forgotten completely that I had anything in my hands to begin with. Which means it will remain there until Scott happens to see it or one of us drives off and it flies away.
I think my favorite car roof story involves Caroline’s lunchbox. The school office called us at around eleven one morning saying, “We wondered if you were planning to bring in Caroline’s lunch later.”
“I sent it in,” I insisted. “I remember packing it up this morning!”
“Let me look around again.”
It didn’t turn up, and Scott took in a replacement meal. We were baffled as to its whereabouts, because we could both remember getting out of the door with it. But we searched around, and it wasn’t anywhere in the car, and nobody could find it at the school. We had just about written it off for lost when we were driving out of the neighborhood later that evening. It was trash night, and I spied something pink propped on top of a neighbor’s can. I slammed on the brakes. “Scott, did that have princesses on it?”
I started reversing down the street. “There! Go get that. Just … go see what it is.”
By then, he understood, and he popped out to retrieve what did indeed turn out to be the missing lunchbox. As soon as we found it, we realized what had happened, and we knew who the culprit had to have been.
The simple solution, of course, would be for me to never put things on the car roof. Only that’s so impractical as to be laughable. When I haven’t got free hands, I have to put things up there. It’s not my fault the roof is over my head and I therefore never look up there naturally. And remembering such a simple detail is completely beyond my intellectual capacity most of the time. Particularly because we lose things other places far more often. For instance, in spite of our having a key hanger right inside our garage door, Scott and I both perpetually forget to use it and lose the keys everywhere in the house. We know they’ll turn up eventually, so when a quick search doesn’t produce them, we tend to just use the spares.
I think we’ve temporarily solved the issue as far as the keys go, though. After Scott replaced the most recent victim, which flew off while he was driving down the highway, he put the new key on a wristband keychain. I find it completely annoying to wear the thing, but it DOES seem to be working. I seem capable of slipping my hand into the bracelet when I take the keys out of the ignition or head out to the car. But who knows if it will last. At this point, I’m just kind of grateful that the kids are too big to put up there. You know what I’m saying?