Preventable blunder leaves luckless locked out
Out of all the many things I’ve ever lost or misplaced during my nearly 22 years of existence, my house keys were by far the most inconvenient.
I will admit that at age 10 I thought nothing could be worse than losing the charger to my GameBoy Color, and I still think that might be a close second, but second nonetheless.
Due to my persistent refusal to secure the two loose keys to a substantial keychain and my constant need to switch wallets every other day and twice on Sundays, they somehow became lost to the Erie tundra.
This incident occurred the night before the storm that entirely covered my car, chaining it to its parking spot with snowy shackles for the next three days.
So then imagine what kind of chance I had at finding two keys, attached to virtually nothing, in the intramural field that had turned into a scene out of “The Polar Express.”
I’m the kind of person who has a mini anxiety attack if I get to class and realize I forgot my textbook. Compare that to losing the one thing that can gain me access to my own house and multiply the 50-minute class to about a week and you’ll have some idea of how I felt.
In addition to giving me that sinking feeling that can only accompany the loss of something so essential, it was just plain inconvenient, for not only me, but my roommate, too.
Case and point – neither one of us was thrilled about the prospect of having to leave our front door unlocked during the times we realized I would be home before her.
If you’ve heard about any of the recent shenanigans – including an attic shooting, for example – on Third Street, you know that this is really not an ideal solution.
But spending money for a new set of keys was also not high up on my list of things to do.
For some reason I was convinced that a new keys would run me anywhere upwards of $50, so I was determined to hold out as long as possible.
It wasn’t until about the third time I had either locked myself out, or my roommate had accidentally forgotten to keep the door unlocked on her way out that I decided I needed to take action.
I called the key place and had everything ready to go, but didn’t take into account that the place closed at 5 p.m. that day, and it was already 4:45 p.m.
At this point I was determined not to live another day without my keys. I hightailed it to my car and sped down the treacherous side streets to the building by 4:50.
I was standing at the counter, key in hand, credit card in the other, by 4:52, only to hear the words, “I can only take cash.” He then kindly reminded me that he was closing at 5.
It was a great thing I had about 13 cents on me. Eight minutes to make it to an ATM and back? Challenge accepted.
Somehow, miraculously, I made it in time and walked out with a brand spanking new key.
Have I attached it to anything of substance yet to prevent further catastrophes?
Let’s just say I like to live dangerously.
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