These are the mysterious keys I found as a result of washing a shower curtain this morning.Bear with me, this is a twisty ride. . . .
My parents are coming to town tomorrow for Turkey Day and other Festivities, so of course I have cleaning to do. I was working in the kitchen when R left for work, so I left my sink-scrubbin' for a moment to run upstairs and grab the shower curtain from the extra bathroom (we're on an energy-saving(s) plan that gives us a discount if we focus our energy consumption between 9pm and 9am, so I needed to get the washer goin).
Our washer and dryer are in the garage, and when I went out to put the curtain in the wash, I saw that the garage door wasn't closed (note to self: tell R his garage door clicker is out of whack). "Well" I though cleverly to myself, "Since the garage door is already open, I should move my car to the center of the garage so I can access it more easily when I clean it out later." I'm ever so efficient, you know, not wanting to have to open the garage door twice when once would do.
I moved the car, and realised that with all the crap in the garage I would not be able to pull up far enough to A) close the garage door and B) get *around* the car to clean it. "Hm. Well, why not just clean it out right now, while the garage door is open?" So I did. I really only needed to clean the trash out of it and give it a vacuum, but after I moved it I saw that the wee bit of armor all I'd wiped down some surfaces with yesterday had really made a difference. Enough of a difference that I figured I needed to finish the job to even it out. And as I did that I noticed that the windows were mighty ooky, what with all the doggie nose prints and stuff.
After the exterior of the car was nice and shiny and spot free, I tackled the inside. This is where the keys come in. I should preface this by saying that I have given my car what I thought was a good thorough cleaning before. And that I was told by the crappy crappy place from which I bought it (that should tell you something right there) that it had been fully detailed. I was vacuuming under the front seat when I spied something shiny (pause for giggles). I reached in and grabbed a key...which was attached to this keychain.
I've never owned a Toyota, and neither has R. We don't know anyone who owns a Toyota. Therefore, these mystery keys must have been lurking under the seat of my car for *at least THREE years*. How wierd is that? Someone can't ride his/her bike because I have the key to their Kryptonite lock. Looks to be a house key or two on there as well.
I know I should throw them away because we'll never find the owner, but...keys! I can't throw away keys. Can anyone? Everyone I've ever known has had that strange collection of orphaned keys. You're not sure where they came from, or what they go to, but we hang onto them, just in case.
Because you *never* know when I'll randomly meet someone who will tell me a funny story about how they used to love cycling until they lost their bike lock key and had to give it up because, well, Kryptonite!
So anyway. It's 12:20 and I've thus far cleaned part of the kitchen--including the sink, part of which I had to *re-scrub* because the residue from the clean had dried out and gotten crusty!--and unearthed oddities in my car. Oh, and I washed the shower curtain. There's so much more to do, and away I go!
1 comment:
have fun with your parents! it's just me and the mr. this year (although we've heard rumblings from various friends that they'll be stopping by for football earlier in the day or pie later).
i suppose i really will have to make the three pies i said i would...
random keys, i can throw them away...sometimes. but keys with a story, never!
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