Where is it???

There are certain rules in this world: you don't tug on superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger and you don't LOSE YOUR DAMN CAR KEY INSIDE THE DAMN CAR!!

As impossible as it seems, I have lost my car key. I keep my car very neat impeccably clean. I keep a couple of things in the trunk, some papers in the glove box, a couple of odd items in the center console, the garage door opener, a bottle of water in the pocket behind the driver's seat and a bottle of water in the bottle holder. That's it. No loose trash, no little bits of stuff floating around. I like it that way, a little left-over compulsiveness from my anal neat-freak ex. So, if you drop something it should be perfectly absocompletelylutely clear where that dropped something is.

Yesterday after work I met Anita and Sandy at the parking lot of the Lafayette-Moraga Trail for a short run. I arrived, turned off the car engine and started putting on my shoes. I opened my car door and pulled the key from the starter to kill the buzzing noise. I put the key, um, either on the passenger seat or on top of the console. Anita walked over and we started talking and she handed me some money she owed me. I reached behind me to put it in the console and heard -- something -- a jangling-type sound. I realized my key had fallen. Obviously it fell into ANOTHER DIMENSION because it was gone. Missing. Absent. Departed. LOST.

We checked the car. Everywhere. I mean, everyfuckingwhere it could have possibly been, and everywhere else where it couldn't have been. It's not like it's a teensy weensy thing; it's the big car key on a ring with the remote door opener thingamabob. We pulled out the floor mats. Moved the seats forward, back, up, down, everything except removing them. Bent ourselves into shapes humans don't normally bend to try to see places that were just a little too hard to see. Looked into the trunk in case it had developed damn wings and flown there. Pulled everything out of the console and the glove box. It was not there.

I have a little emergency card key I keep in my wallet so I pulled it out, started the car, drove back and forth. It was not mysteriously on the ground where I had parked. We re-checked everywhere we had previously looked in case it had been jarred loose from some hidden spot we didn't know about.

Sandy arrived, checked many of the places we had already checked. She didn't find the key. Y'know, that whole different dimension-thing where it'd escaped to. It was completely gone.

We decided to just do our run, nice and easy and relaxing. Not so much relaxing. My legs were apparently in a big fat hurry to get back and look for my stupid ass key. Remember, I'm 13+ minute mile girl. First mile, 12:29. Slow down, slow down! Second mile, 12:21. Slow dow--- where is my key?? Third mile, 11:42. Oh yeah, that was relaxing all righty.

Oh dear little key, I know you were tired, having to run with me three other days this week. You've been so good, no complaints about the hours and the miles that you've spent running with me, opening and starting the car with nary a hint you were unhappy. I know, I've used you much more than your twin, the "spare," and maybe you thought I was taking you for granted. No no, I know how very special you are. Please stop hiding and come back to me, I promise to rotate you with your twin so you get some rest. Pleeeeease come back, no questions asked. When I get back in my car after work please be sitting nicely on the floor. Please .....