Lost Keys

Yesterday was my first bad day at CAP. But there was definitely a lesson learned, thus making it blog-worthy, so here goes:

Yesterday morning got off to a great start! The local domestic violence shelter planted a tree at our house as a sign of appreciation to CAP. Before the tree-planting ceremony and reception our volunteer manager came over to the house and made pancakes for everyone! The morning's activities meant we didn't have to be at work until later and could sleep in a bit. Pancakes, trees, extra sleep. Sounds like the start to a good day, right? Well...

Somewhere in between moving my CAP van to make room for the tree-planting ceremony and coming back in my room to make a phone call I misplaced the keys to Whit Ventura. After retracing my steps and looking in every possible place in the house I looked at the clock. It was 9:35. I needed to have Hermie (45 min. away) in Hazard (additional 20-25 min) by 11. I had a problem. I told Harold, our volunteer manager who we lovingly refer to as Big Poppa, about my predicament. He rushed me down to Charlie, our head mechanic who reluctantly gave me the spare key.

The drive to Hindman had never seemed so long. When I finally made it to Hermie's it was 10:35. If she was right ready to leave, we could make it by 11, or at least close enough to it so she could keep her appointment. As I approached her house, I noticed the big door was closed behind the screen door...not a good sign. After knocking, calling her name several times, and finding the door locked tight, I realized she wasn't there. Deflated, I returned to Whit Ventura, unlocked her with my spare key instead of the usual keyless entry, and headed back to the office to spend the rest of the day doing paperwork. YAY! - or not. This all really bummed me out.

The search for the keys continued into the night. The longer I went without them, the more bummed out I got, dreading having to confess to Charlie that I had lost the key. My housemates helped me look and told me their own lost key stories. Christian even told me I could blame it on her - and that she was actually going to flat out tell them it was her fault if I didn't. My catholic roommates offered to pray to Saint Anthony, Patron of Lost Things, for me. Nothing seemed to work. I didn't get it. I had used them that morning!!!

Last night at 11:30 I opened my underwear drawer to retrieve the types of things you go into underwear drawers for and there peeking out under some of the drawers contents was nothing other than the keys to Whit Ventura.

I couldn't help to laugh about it. Not just finding my keys in my underwear drawer (as obvious as it may seem) but thinking about how I had my panties in a wad* over something so small. God definitely has a sense of humor. I think I'll lighten up.


*"Panties in a Wad" - being upset, uptight, bothered about something. Not an Appalachian phrase, but a Hallsboro phrase.