It’s getting late and I need to get to the local pizza place to meet my beloved, who has just finished a long day of work. I cannot find my keys.
The irony here is that at this very moment I am listening to a TED Talks radio podcast about memory. Though the podcast will eventually be outstanding, this does not make me feel better in the moment. In fact, I find myself talking back to it in unkind terms.
I look on the key hook, and I look on my desk. No keys. I check my pockets again. Still no keys.
I could just grab my car keys, of course, which have my house keys with them, but I am planning to walk to the pizza joint to get in a few steps, and so am looking for the keys I take to the health club. I know I just had them a little while ago because I walked there earlier this afternoon. I want them now because I don’t want to carry things that big in my pockets as I walk. No reason to carry more than I need, right?. But as time is progressing, it’s become personal. I mean … I want to find my keys.
So I trace myself back in time.
I took most of the day off today, and I’ve been busy cutting grass and doing lawn stuff and treadmilling and other stuff. Tracing my path brings me nothing, though. I walk upstairs to check the bathroom counter and my dresser–two places that I often leave things, though I’m damned certain I haven’t been up there this afternoon. Thank goodness, I’m right. No keys. This means that I’m still disgruntled, but I can breathe more easily and stand down the dimension police.
I’m running out of time, so as I’m going back downstairs I give in, and decide to take the car keys.
Then I see the door, and I laugh at myself.
I had been to the health club earlier, of course. And sure enough, I opened to door to find the keys still sitting in the doorknob.