I hate it when that happens, Vol. MMMCCCVII

Once again, I lost my keys. It was my spare set, so I didn't exactly have to freak out or anything. Nevertheless, it is only a matter of time before I lose my main set, too, and then things could get dicey, like I couldn't go anywhere and I know from past experience that it costs over $150 to get Ford to make me a new remote thingy. Now, I kind of looked for them, off and on, for the last two weeks, shuffling through the magazines heaped on the coffee table, pushing aside all the junk on my desk, toeing through the pile of books by the side of the bed. Yesterday, I got serious. I cleaned up the aforementioned messes. No keys. I went through the closet looking in jacket pockets (where did all those jackets come from anyway?). While I was at it, I organized the closet a little. I swept under the bed and behind the dresser. As a last resort, I went through my jean drawer, rifling the pockets, and, on the bottom-most layer, found them in my little jean peddlepushers that I haven't worn forever. Quite a relief. And what a blessing. The house was clean, too.