I lost my house keys. Panic! Disaster! Aaaah! I called: the library, the bus company, security, the police, two libraries, and the business office. I walked over two miles of pavement and three floors, peering into corners. No keys.
Mr. S and I shared a set. For a week. Oh, the inconvenience! The being locked out! So I called my poor landlord, who drove into town to sign the paper so the locksmith could make a key that he (the landlord) drove over to my apartment Sunday morning on his way to check the squirrel traps. Squirrels and dumb tenants: the banes of his existence.
I put the new key on a clip and got ready to leave the house. Mr. S said, Where are my keys, dear? In the dish by the back door. No, wait, they're here, dear. No, they're by the back door.
Huh?
Yes. In the key dish. Where they'd been all week.
I goes to gradewwute skool, I does.
