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We all misplace things now and then, but it does seem to get worse as we get older. Pyschologists suggest looking at your routine: if you headed for the pantry when you last came home, your lost keys might be on a shelf there. Or maybe in the refrigerator? I haven't done that one yet.

My wife and I do lose our keys pretty often . Shouts of "Where are my keys?" are common around here. Well, let's be honest: it's more like "Where are my ________ keys?", with the blank part filled in with increasingly colorful expletives as the urgency to find the missing keys increases. Eventually we get to the "_________, where the _________ are my _______ _________ __________ keys, ________?" phrase, though we usually find them before that.

But I recently experienced the topper of lost key stories. I was in Rhode Island after visiting a customer and was low on gas, so I stopped. It was one of those self serve places where an attendant sits in a little shack nestled among the pumps, but I had no need to pay much attention to him: I pulled up, got out of my car, and used my credit card to fill up. As I pocketed the receipt, I felt that awful pit of the stomach feeling. Where are my keys? It was a little cool that day, so I was wearing a jacket, but I checked all the pockets, inside and out. No keys. I checked my pants, front and back. Nope. I checked my shirt pocket. Not there, either. Darn!

Ok, I'm a logical person. Obviously I must have dropped them. I looked down around my feet. No keys. Hmmm.. maybe I kicked them under the car? I tried bending down, but I was parked too close to the pumps and really couldn't see much.

Are you ready for it? I needed to move the car to see under it, so I jumped in, started it up, moved it to a parking spot off to the side, and walked back to look for my keys.

Yeah, right. I'm not a total idiot, so as I got back to the pump I did realize that since I had driven the blankety-blank car over to park it, I didn't need to look for my keys. But here I was, on foot, back at the pumps, looking at the ground. I glanced up, and the guy in the shack was looking at me, no doubt wondering what I was searching for.

So now I'm pretending to look for something because I don't want the guy to think I'm the totally clueless person I really am. I'm actually standing there pretending to scan the ground and at the same time casting around in my brain for what the heck I'm going to say if the guy opens his little window and asks me what I've lost. My wallet? The receipt? My mind?

After a moment of this nonsense, I gave up and walked back to my car. I buckled up, and started back toward home. Hmmm.. where's my cell phone?

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