Welcome To The Bitchery
Welcome To The Bitchery

ETA: The keys have been found. By my neighbour Sherry, who made some calls to the TTC and who stood by my bus stop and asked the driver of every single bus that went past if someone had found and turned in a set of keys. The last bus she asked had the keys, and she sent me a phone pic to prove they were the right ones. My knees are still shaky and I’m still on the verge of tears, but now it’s from relief. And I have to think about how I can thank Sherry, since I don’t think there’s anything in the world that will fully express my gratitude.

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First, before you all panic: THE FUSSPOT IS MUCH BETTER, thank you. He’s feeling much improved now that he has his meds, though he’s still unsteady on his feet and I think that is going to be the new normal. But he ate dinner last night and breakfast this morning with his usual enthusiasm, and the meds helped him have a better night.

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But I have completely lost my shit because I HAVE LOST MY KEYS. I locked the door behind me this morning and put my keys in my pocket like I always do, since I put them in my knapsack once I am on the bus. But somehow this morning I missed a step and I didn’t realize my keys weren’t there until I got to work. I emptied out my knapsack, my purse, my makeup bag and my lunch bag for good measure, unzipped every possible compartment, checked all my pockets, and ... nothing. At which point I burst into tears, which is a sign of how undone I am by this as I disapprove of crying at the office. This is one of my worst nightmares made flesh. I swear, the last thing I think of before I go to bed is “where are my keys?” and the first thing I think of when I wake up is “where are my keys?”

I called a neighbour and asked her to go upstairs to see if my keys were still hanging in my lock. They were not. Which means that either I lost them on the bus or I lost them somewhere around the building. Sherry, bless her, got dressed and is combing the general area and stopping the bus drivers to ask if she can check for keys or whether anyone has turned in a key ring. My upstairs neighbour has a spare key to my place, so she can let me into the building and hand over the spare so I can get into my own apartment, but entry here means two keys: one large expensive Yale for the front door of the building and then another (in fact two others) for the apartment itself. (But the Yale is v expensive to replace and has to be ordered specially.)

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I’ve never done this before. I feel stupid and devastated and unsafe, even though there is no identifying tag on the key king unless you count the engraved fob with my initials (and what hurts even more is that my pretty little key ring came from Tiffany, but I bought it at a rummage store that didn’t know what it had so got it for a fraction of the price). It has all the keys associated with my apt and apt building plus the keys to my mom’s place (and of all days today she is out of town), my pocketknife, my alarm whistle, my bottle opener (sob!), the key to my fireproof safe box, and the key to my mailbox. The ring is small but heavy and I can’t believe I didn’t hear it fall: there are a lot of keys on there.

I’m not usually like this, but I am totally hysterical. I took two tranquilizers but they didn’t work so I took two more. I might fall over at some point, but I no longer care. I cannot get into my home and castle and I cannot get to the Fusspot. Just kill me now.

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