The thing about keys...

I noticed last night as I took my earplugs out of the little box at my bedside that there was an errant key in there. Now, I have this idea about keys. The more you have, the more important I feel, and the more stressed-out I am. Oh, I know guys like to have a big bunch dingle-dangling from a belt loop, but you know guys, they just love dingle-dangly things. Me, I'd get an ache in my admittedly trashed wrist just lifting them. Once upon a time, I had a prodigious number myself: house key, garage key, car ignition key, car trunk and door key, outside office key, inside office key, desk drawer key, three file cabinet keys, bike lock key, safety deposit key, post office key, well, you get the idea. The more keys, the more responsibilities, and headaches. Especially when I'd lose them, something that happens less often than losing the wallet, but at least twice a decade. Fortunately, their number has dwindled to just three: front door, back door, and car (now one key opens everything and starts the car, what a concept!). The bike lock key has been in the bike lock, on the bike, which I only recently found under a pile of detritus in the garage, and it may soon make its way back to my key ring, but that's about it. And that's enough.