I think my brain is broken.

OR.. (and I like this one better, so I’ll use IT INSTEAD) my purse contains a magical portal into NARNIA or MAYBE the BERMUDA TRIANGLE!

Tuesday, we took Jocelyn to the urgent care doctor (oh yeah, she was sick Monday) to check her out for any infections. I remember SPECIFICALLY taking my keys and putting them in my pocket, even though I didn’t really need them because we were all going and James was driving. I took them anyway. Later, I remember slipping them into the outside pocket of my purse, which is where I always put them if they’re not on the hook by the garage door, or in my pocket.

Later, they were NOT in the outside pocket of my purse. They were not in my purse at all. They were not ANYWHERE TO BE FOUND. And did I find this out at an opportune moment? A moment where I could have snagged James’ copy of my car key off of his keys? Of course not.

No, I discovered this at the worst possible moment. Wednesday morning, which is also known as splash day, (or in our house, it’s known as, “SPLASH DAY IT’S SPLASH DAY YAY TODAY IS SPLASH DAY!”) because the kids wear their swimming suits to school for, you guessed it, splashing and water fun.

It wasn’t just any splash day. It was also the day that James went to the hospital for a simple procedure. Simple, because it’s in and out, wham bam, he’s done, and he even stays semi conscious for it (conscious enough to follow orders, not conscious enough to remember it afterward) but not so simple that he can drive home or work that day.

So it is up to me to be at the hospital to drive him home. It is also up to me to drive the kids to school (SPLASH DAY IT’S SPLASH DAY!), because James has to be at the hospital earlier than is possible to get the kids ready to go. So James has left (WITH HIS SET OF KEYS AND THE ONLY SPARE TO MY TRUCK) and I have finally managed to get swimming suits on, swimming shoes on, spare clothes packed into bags, don’t forget the shoes and socks, oh yes, they will need towels, and what’s that? what’s that you say? breakfast? you mean I have to FEED THESE CHILDREN? oh, and drinks – let’s not let them dehydrate, I REMEMBERED EVERYTHING, PEOPLE. So I finally had it together and was ready to haul all the crap out to the car, when I remembered.

Oh shit. I don’t know where my keys are.

I thought they must be in a pocket somewhere. Whenever my keys go missing, they turn up in a pocket of something I wore previously. So I ran upstairs, heart pounding, trying not to think about what happens if I can’t find them, searching for ANYTHING I wore in the past 2 days, checking the pockets. I looked on the bed, on the ironing board that is set up in a semi-permanent state near our closet, I looked in the bathroom, I looked in the kids bathroom, I even checked the dryer in case that banging I heard wasn’t actually the rocks Ethan likes to put in his pockets and were in actuality, my keys – nope, they were rocks. Note to self: talk to Ethan about putting rocks in his pocket. Second note to self: check pockets before tossing Ethan’s clothes in the wash. Note to self: FOCUS YOU’VE GOT TO FIND YOUR FUCKING KEYS!

I went out to my truck to check out there. I looked on the floor, the middle compartment, I checked under the seats, I looked everywhere, in case they had fallen out of my purse somehow.

Finally it was full on panic. I went back inside. I got the phone. I stared at it, trying to figure out WHO I was going to call. I am not on super good terms with my neighbors with kids. Sure, good enough to borrow a cup of sugar, but “Hi, I’ve lost my keys and I need to borrow your car so I can take my kids to school and pick up my sedated husband from the hospital” — what kind of terms did you have to be on for THAT phone call? I WOULD GUESS PRETTY GOOD TERMS. Honestly, it’s sad, as I realized that all the folks that I was on THAT good of terms with live too far away for that sort of phone call.

So now I am panicked AND feeling like a friendless loser. I’m going to go have a heart attack AND EAT WORMS.
As a last resort, I took my purse and determined to dump it out and really make sure they weren’t in there. Perhaps Tumnus the Faun had grown bored with them by then and had tossed them back through the “Pocket Portal to and from Narnia” because after I turned the purse upside down and shook REALLY hard, out they came.

I have never been so happy in my life. I didn’t have to be better friends with my neighbors! I could continue to be a friendless loser! I HAD FOUND MY CAR KEYS!

But my malicious purse had not done it’s last deed.

Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I wanted to update my iPod with some tv shows, so I went to get it from the car. My ipod is always either in the car, or in my purse. I checked my purse and didn’t find it, so then I proceeded to rip my car about in the search. My heart was beating fast, my palms were getting all cold and sweaty, I was going to have to go inside and tell James I had lost or had stolen, my $400 ipod and he was going to chew me out something proper – I have a bit of a reputation for losing my wallet. I usually REALLY lose it (read: Leave it someplace very inconvenient, like the bathroom of Costco, and can’t find it for over 12 hours) about once a year, and of course then I casually lose it (read: leave it somewhere in the car, house or office and can’t find it for a few hours) so often that my wallet losing abilities have staggered scientists and theologians alike. James is always pretty pissed off when I do my i’ve-lost-my-wallet bit, so I knew the feedback from the i’ve-lost-my-ipod bit would NOT be pretty. Seriously, my stomach was churning when I came back inside, determined to SEARCH my purse thoroughly because dammit the damn thing has to be SOMEWHERE and it SHOULD be in my purse.

And sure enough. The stranded pilot trapped in the Bermuda Triangle must have listened to it until the battery ran out and tossed it back through the MAGICAL PORTAL OF THE PURSE OF AMY’S DEMISE VIA HEART ATTACK, since it reappeared in my purse on my second, very careful search of the Purse Of Destiny.

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH! Or as my dad would say, “Scrud.”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy a new purse and make a copy of my car keys so that I can just sit in my house listening to my iPod and not have to talk to anyone in my neighborhood ever again.