This morning as I was just getting myself comfortable within my cube at work I got a call from Missy on my iPhone. Frowning a bit, I picked up the phone and punched “ACCEPT”.
Missy (sounding mad): Where’re my keys?
Side note: Last night I drove Missy’s car to move it out of our driveway. I remember dropping off her keys in the upper left-hand part of the cubby next to the driveway door. That is where they usually are when they are not being used to shuttle little children around.
Walker: They’re in the cubby.
Missy (still sounding mad): No, they are not.
Side note #2: I also remember that in the hustle and bustle of the morning chaos the kids and thoroughly TRASHED their cubbies in a mad-dash effort at finding matching shoes, finding their coats, finding their backpacks, etc. Maybe the keys had got lost in the shuffle?
Walker: I distinctly remember putting them in the cubby, babe.
Missy (still mad): I looked the in the cubby. I looked in your Man Box (my vanity). Not there.
Walker: Are you sure?
From the phone I hear Missy rooting around in the cubby area.
Missy (still mad): They are not there, Walker! I looked!
Missy (a little less mad): Here they are.
Missy (for some reason getting mad again, a gathering storm): Next time, could you…
Walker (to himself): Oh, no…what could it be? How in the world was putting Missy’s keys where they go 95% of the time be “my bad”?
Missy: (sigh)…BYE! (click)
That was it? I guess it was!