The Short Walk

The Short Walk

Would someone please explain to me why men can't remember a damned thing that doesn’t revolve around sports statistics or the punch line from some asinine movie they saw 10 years ago. How is it that they can recall and recite the name of every player who ever made the Super Bowl hall of fame or quote entire scenes from a Three Stooges movie but they have to ask me where their socks are? I just don’t get it! Is selective memory somehow encoded into their DNA? I have two of them living with me at the moment (note I said ‘at the moment’) but at least they don’t have to drive me insane because now it’s just a short walk.

Just look at today for example. I think I have been very generous. I’m allowing two adult males to live with their mother. I don’t ask for rent, they sure don’t volunteer to contribute and I am even allowing them to use my ‘stuff’. The only stipulation is if you use it; bring it back when you are finished and then when I go looking for the laptop or the headset or my camera and I say, “You were supposed to bring this back when you were finished” I hear, “I forgot”.

This little return policy of mine applies to everything I own including my computers and to the keys to my automobiles. Now really, do you think that I am asking too much? I have two cars and there are three of us. Do the math and see if you can guess which one of us is usually without wheels. But today I had things that involved my using the car (if, of course, I could remember how to drive, it’s been so long!). So last night, I told Ryan that he would need to get a ride to work today and knowing Ryan as I do I even asked his dad if he would be so gracious and give him a lift. This would save my having to drag my ass out into the cold at 8 am. “Dad” agreed, and when I went to inform Ryan that arrangements had been made I saw that he was already sleeping. Being the kind, loving, considerate mother that I am, I left him a note telling him the plan, and also reminding him to leave my car keys on the table. As a backup I told his father to remind him and to please make sure that he left the keys. No problem.

Today as I drank my morning coffee I wrote the checks, deposit slips and got everything in order to make the errands more organized. I got dressed, I put on my jacket, picked up my purse and there were no keys on the kitchen table, the foyer table, the coffee table, or anything that could be remotely described as a table! I even looked in the pig sty where Ryan wallows and didn’t see them there. I searched the dog’s bed (she has a tendency to hide anything she finds in it, my keys have been located there before) and nope, no keys. My Blazer is sitting there in the drive and I can’t use it, there’s no need to phone Ryan because he may have the keys but… so I call Dad and cross my fingers hoping he answers his cell, knows where my keys are, or is going to offer to run by Ryan’s place of work and bring them to me.

He answers his phone (good sign) and I said to him; “did you happen to remind Ryan to leave my keys, I have looked all over and I can’t find them?” I got one of those long pauses and then I hear, “I forgot”. That’s when he got the long pause. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, cuss, spit or go blind. Then I heard him say, “I have keys for it, I’ll bring them to you.”
“You have keys to my car?”
”Yes, I have Kyle’s set.”
You know what, I didn’t even ask.

After I had finished my errands I decided I was going on a Car Key Scavenger hunt. I drove by the place where Ryan works and as I pulled up I saw his little pointed head sticking out of the door, smiling his big old toothy smile and I said, “Ryan, I’ve come to get my set of keys.” And he said, “They’re under your feet”

“Huh?” Puzzled.
”They’re under your feet”
Sure enough there under the floor mat laid my keys.
I just looked at his grinning face and had to ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going put them under the mat?”
“I Forgot.”

That walk is getting shorter every day.