Oh my goodness, guys. I'm a mentos addict. Somebody take this foil tube of slightly circular squishy candies away from me before I eat them all.
...too late. Great, now I feel like a sugar-buzzed fatling.
Welp, now that my highly nutritious dinner is completed, I shalt begin my key-saga.
Actually, before we get started, allow me to tell you, in summary, my relationship with keys. People, I am hands down, one of the worlds worst key-keepers. If you give me a key, I will undoubtedly misplace it MANY times during the duration of its' sad little life with me. My morning routine usually consists of me leaving myself a good 10 minutes of extra time to play my favorite morning game "Where are the keys hiding this time?" This game consists of Christi running around, looking under pillows, on shelves, in drawers and on top of all the flat surfaces in her apartment for her sneaky little keys. What makes this game more interesting is a current addition to Christi's daily wardrobe: her motorcycle helmet. As you can imagine, this adds an extra layer of challenge to these lovely morning festivities. For, her peripheral vision is undoubtedly obscured a good 40%, and her head sized increased a good 50%. However, those pesky little key-hiders never go unnoticed, for, she always manages to locate them one way or another, big head and all.
I'm not sure how I started writing in third person, but I think this might be a good time to stop being a weirdo and switch back to normal writing. *Eheeem* So, yes, folks. I have a hard time keeping tabs on my keys. For all I know, at night they're out partying with the neighborhood keys while I'm all snoozin' and stuff. Shame. On. Me.
But, now onto my key saga; the tale I originally desired to ramble on about...
Tonight, after work, I rode my leedle motorbike (PS - I LOVE MY MOTORCYCLE WITH ALL THE LOVES IN MY HEART) to Orchard Supply and Hardware on Bundy street, a delightful little hardware store, just under a mile from my apartment. I remember the first time I went to Orchard Supply, I literally thought it was going to be a store filled with apple-growing supplies and such. That night I was on a quest for Mason Jars, I wanted to bake leedle banana breads' in them. Like dis:
Unfortunately, Orchard Supply store was NOT an apple-growing supply store as I originally hoped it would be. Orchard Supply store doesn't even have a very big selection of foliage anything. In fact, it mostly has supplies that range from paint, to dead(ish) looking cactus's, to semi-cheap tools, to 30 year old candy. It's a great place, really. I wrote a Yelp review about my 5-star experience trying to locate non-existent Mason Jars and poking my hands 9-million times while rummaging about trying to find a semi-not dead cactus in a giant behemoth pile of dead cactus's. Actually, that's a lie. I'm totally being facetious right now. I did not write a Yelp review. I should have though. A bad one. Those cactus's were atrocious. Maybe I just went at an off-cactus season time? And, if I did, when is an on-cactus season time? Somebody enlighten me.
Moving on, although they didn't have Mason Jars (I ended up ordering those puppies online like I should have in the first place!) I remembered they had a key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys. Woah. That. Is. A. Tongue. Twister.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Ok, I'm done, promise.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Nope. Had to do it one more time for good measure. So, with this previous key kiosk knowledge in the back of my noggin, I decided I would take my second-ever trip back to the not-really-an-orchard supply-store, and craft a key for my brudder who is coming to visit me on WEDNESDAY! So, hence the "jumping on my motorcyle and riding it to Orchard Supply and Hardware," statement above.
Whew. It took me a long time to get caught up. Telling stories via little digital letters, is harder than one would think. Anywho, because the R2D2 StarWars key was not the right size for my door (CURSES!) I decided to go with the next most masculine key I could find: PINK LIGHTING BOLTS! How could I say "no" to this bad boy? I mean look at it. It's all sciency and stuff.
Teeheeheehe. When I hold it in my palm, I can almost feel 1293823 volts of electric current pulsating through my palm into the tips of my leedle phalanges. ZAP ZAP ZAP!
Just kidding. I don't really imagine that kind of weird stuff....or do I?
The man who attended the key kiosk was very nice. He was older, smelled of spicy stuff, and had a brown beard that had flecks of tan something in it. I'm hoping that the flecks were wood-chips of sorts, and not bread crust. Or, if it was bread crust, that it was recent bread crust, and not bread crust from 42 days ago. But, whatever, who am I to judge about beard-bread crusts and the keeping of them. He asked me about my helmet, and we joked about his glory days spent on motorcycles and picking up the ladies. He also told me about his dream to ride helmet-less across the United States, a feat which would not only be very long, very bum-soreifying, but also very illegal in most states. All in all, it was a nice little visit at the key kiosk with, Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man.
Then, he handed me my pink electric key, I stuck it on my key-chain, walked out to my bike, started it up and off I zoom-zoomed away through the traffic, back home to my apartment. When I arrived at my destination, I unloaded my body from the saddle of my bike, and walked to my apartment door with my prized electric pink key in hand. I stuck the little neck of the key in the key hole, smiled, turned the key, and then smiled a little less...for it did not turn.
NOT THE PINK ELECTRIC KEY!? Y U NO WORK KEY!?
Suddenly all the magical electrical power that was once vibrating through the supercharged key, slowly died...as my hope for the key to ever open my front door died too. It was a very sad moment in time. I jiggled, and wiggled, and tried and then after I tried...I tried again...but the pink electric key would not open my front door.
Defeated, I took the pink electric key in my palm, wound up my arm, and launched the key across my apartment parking lot as far as I could muster.
...Just kidding. I didn't do this. I really wanted to though.
Instead, I loaded myself back onto my bike, rode back to Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man and presented him with the ill-manufactured and broken pink electric key. "Here" I mumbled. "The electric magic is gone." I stated, the key clanking softly as it fell from my hand and tumbled across the counter. Actually I think I said "This isn't working." But INSIDE, I wanted to tell him the later. He looked rather surprised, but took the broken key in his giant bear like paws, and stuck it back into the machine to grind what I think might be more electric magic into it.
This time, while the key was grinding, he told me about his health. And, let me tell you what, folks. Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man, does not have good health. His knees are going bad, and he really should sit on a stool while he's working, but sadly, he is not allowed to sit on a stool. So, instead, he stands and grinds magic into keys all day long, while his knee bones grind on one another. Suddenly, I felt really bad for making him grind my keys, and I told him so. I told him that he should be at home in a chair, reading the newspaper and eating brownies. He liked that idea. Right around that same time, the grinder stopped grinding, so he opened the machine and presented me with a NEWLY CHARGED PINK LIGHTING BOLT KEY saying "This one will work, I promise."Oh man, I was excited.
I repeated the ride home, unmounted my bike, stuck the electric key into the key-hole with eager and anticipation, closed my eyes, turned the key...and...nothing. NOTHING. Happened. The door didn't open. Lightning didn't come from the sky...unicorns weren't dancing on my front step...nothing.
He had told me specifically that it would work this time. HE PROMISED. I felt my face become hot, I WAS ANGRY AT MR BEARD BREAD CRUST MAN, He promised me the key would work! I was tired of his electro-powered magic keys, that weren't very magical at all.
Defeated, and angry. But wanting to keep my composure, I started up my bike again, rode it to the not-really-an-orchard-suppy-AND-a-horrible-key-makers-store and presented the non-supercharged key to the key Kiosk man. "I like visiting you, but I don't want to come back again." I mumbled. When I looked up, I was surprised to see the man I mumbled to was no longer Mr. Beard Bread Crust man, instead Mr. Beard Bread Crust man, was replaced by a rather attractive man with a name tag that read "John." He thought I was weird for saying that, but took my broken pink lightning key, laughed a bit at its' atrociousness and asked me to pick out another key. I decided to give the Pink electric lighting bolt key ONE LAST chance. As I handed the brand new un-cut key to John, I whispered a silent prayer over it, that it would Puh-lease, oh-Puhlease, oh PUH-lease, work this time. As John cut my key, he hummed a couple lines of a Mumford and Sons song. He wasn't as entertaining to talk to as Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man (in fact, he didn't talk at all), but he was much more nice to look at.
Fast forward...
I stood nervously pacing outside my front door. Still wearing my helmet. Newly cut key (by John) in hand. Sweat accumulating on brow, under helmet. There was one thing that was keeping me on the outside of my apartment. And it was, my door. Which was locked. I held the answer to get inside, or did I?
My hand trembled a little as I extended it while holding the key. With each continued arm extension, the jostling increased, until I had to grasp my key-holding hand with my other hand, for stability purposes. The key slid inside the lock, I let out my breath with a giant puff (not realizing I had been holding it in the first place) and firmly turned the key to the right. IT TURNED! Wait. No. It didn't. It half-turned. I tried to finish the turn, to complete the full turn, I jostled and jostled, but the key would not move. At this point, I was still in denial, this key works, I just knew it. I must have simply turned it too fast, or perhaps too slow? I pulled it out, gained some ramming speed, and shoved it back into the lock again. Slowly, I turned the key to the right, *click* it hit what felt like a little itsy bitsy lock-wall, and it would not budge any further. "ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!?" I bellowed up into the sunny sky, my giant helmet-head flailing about in protest. In retrospect, I should have closed my eyes while I did this, because when I looked back down at the lock and proceeded to attempt to find the key-hole with the key again, I couldn't from all the sun-spots which clouded my vision. So, there I was, grumbling, moaning, half-blinded, big-helmet head, perhaps slightly-swearing, sweating, and cursing Mr. Beard Crumb Man and John for all of my key troubles....when it hit me: The giggles.
It started out slightly. The awareness of the absolute ridiculousness that was happening on my front porch, the idiocy of what I probably looked like to the passerby's, the fact that I was still wearing my helmet and trying to make a magical pink lightning key work in my door, when it obviously would rather not. All at once, it was all so very hilarious to me. And, so, there I stood with my giant head, on my front porch, 3rd pink lightning bolt fail key in hand, shaking with the giggles.
Thank God I got the giggles, no seriously. Because I'm pretty sure if I wasn't granted the giggles, I would have gone back to John, and with my furry taken the 3 broken keys, unlocked his chest with them, pulled out his still-beating heart, and thrown it at Mr. Beard Bread Crust man's face. That's how angry I was in that moment. Something so silly, like a key, not working in my door, gave me the furry of 1 million momma bears, who's cubs have just been antagonized. It really is quite silly, how furious we can get over the most idiotic things. Like magical lightning bolt keys, that don't work.
"Fourth times the charm, right?" I muttered to myself as I loaded my rump onto my bike for what I prayed to be my final time. When I arrived at the all-too familiar Orchard Supply and Hardware store, I was greeted by the door man "There was a girl who just came in here...she looked just like you!" "You don't say!?" I laughed. Then, I marched over to the key kiosk counter, looked John in the face and said "John, John, can we be real with one another? Let's be real right now. This is my fourth time back at this same counter, with my fourth pink-lightning bolt key that does not work. I believe Jesus is trying to teach me patience with this experience, so I'm not angry, but I would really like this teaching lesson to be over, very, very soon. So, you're going to take a new lightning bolt key, cut it correctly, inspect it to make sure it's cut correctly, and Lord willing I won't be back here to bother you again. Deal?"
He looked at me with big eyes, squeaked "Deal." and quickly went to work. While he was working, I busied myself with the mentos. There was practically a whole shelf solely dedicated to mentos. I like mentos, so I took a couple roles, hoping they weren't 30 years old, like some of the other candy looked.
When I got home, I stood on my porch with the fourth pink lightning bolt key in my hand. I wasn't angry, I wasn't giggly, I had come to the point of accepting that perhaps this key wouldn't work too. Perhaps I would have to go back to Orchard Hardware and Supply store 20 more times, and that would be OK with me. Why would it be OK? Because I first off, John was really attractive. Secondly, (and more importantly) I realized, in the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter how many times I got the wrong key, what mattered was that eventually it would be the right key. And, no matter how many times it was the wrong key, I was determined that eventually...the door would open. It was just a matter of time.
I placed the 4th magical pink lighting bolt key into the lock, gave it a little turn to the left, and felt the lock-mechanism working inside until the door, swung open freely. It worked! I was inside! Ecstatic, I cried a little, did a mini happy dance (while still wearing my helmet) and attempted to kiss the key. Although, due to still wearing my helmet, I accidentally just bonked it on the front of my mouth-guard piece. But, I think it was the thought that counts.
Lessons learned through this experience:
Love you all, I'm going to bed. And, brother Scott, you better appreciate this pink-lighting bolt key. Or. Else.
...too late. Great, now I feel like a sugar-buzzed fatling.
Welp, now that my highly nutritious dinner is completed, I shalt begin my key-saga.
Actually, before we get started, allow me to tell you, in summary, my relationship with keys. People, I am hands down, one of the worlds worst key-keepers. If you give me a key, I will undoubtedly misplace it MANY times during the duration of its' sad little life with me. My morning routine usually consists of me leaving myself a good 10 minutes of extra time to play my favorite morning game "Where are the keys hiding this time?" This game consists of Christi running around, looking under pillows, on shelves, in drawers and on top of all the flat surfaces in her apartment for her sneaky little keys. What makes this game more interesting is a current addition to Christi's daily wardrobe: her motorcycle helmet. As you can imagine, this adds an extra layer of challenge to these lovely morning festivities. For, her peripheral vision is undoubtedly obscured a good 40%, and her head sized increased a good 50%. However, those pesky little key-hiders never go unnoticed, for, she always manages to locate them one way or another, big head and all.
I'm not sure how I started writing in third person, but I think this might be a good time to stop being a weirdo and switch back to normal writing. *Eheeem* So, yes, folks. I have a hard time keeping tabs on my keys. For all I know, at night they're out partying with the neighborhood keys while I'm all snoozin' and stuff. Shame. On. Me.
But, now onto my key saga; the tale I originally desired to ramble on about...
Tonight, after work, I rode my leedle motorbike (PS - I LOVE MY MOTORCYCLE WITH ALL THE LOVES IN MY HEART) to Orchard Supply and Hardware on Bundy street, a delightful little hardware store, just under a mile from my apartment. I remember the first time I went to Orchard Supply, I literally thought it was going to be a store filled with apple-growing supplies and such. That night I was on a quest for Mason Jars, I wanted to bake leedle banana breads' in them. Like dis:
Unfortunately, Orchard Supply store was NOT an apple-growing supply store as I originally hoped it would be. Orchard Supply store doesn't even have a very big selection of foliage anything. In fact, it mostly has supplies that range from paint, to dead(ish) looking cactus's, to semi-cheap tools, to 30 year old candy. It's a great place, really. I wrote a Yelp review about my 5-star experience trying to locate non-existent Mason Jars and poking my hands 9-million times while rummaging about trying to find a semi-not dead cactus in a giant behemoth pile of dead cactus's. Actually, that's a lie. I'm totally being facetious right now. I did not write a Yelp review. I should have though. A bad one. Those cactus's were atrocious. Maybe I just went at an off-cactus season time? And, if I did, when is an on-cactus season time? Somebody enlighten me.
Moving on, although they didn't have Mason Jars (I ended up ordering those puppies online like I should have in the first place!) I remembered they had a key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys. Woah. That. Is. A. Tongue. Twister.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Ok, I'm done, promise.
Key kiosk in which they crafted copies of keys.
Nope. Had to do it one more time for good measure. So, with this previous key kiosk knowledge in the back of my noggin, I decided I would take my second-ever trip back to the not-really-an-orchard supply-store, and craft a key for my brudder who is coming to visit me on WEDNESDAY! So, hence the "jumping on my motorcyle and riding it to Orchard Supply and Hardware," statement above.
Whew. It took me a long time to get caught up. Telling stories via little digital letters, is harder than one would think. Anywho, because the R2D2 StarWars key was not the right size for my door (CURSES!) I decided to go with the next most masculine key I could find: PINK LIGHTING BOLTS! How could I say "no" to this bad boy? I mean look at it. It's all sciency and stuff.
Just kidding. I don't really imagine that kind of weird stuff....or do I?
The man who attended the key kiosk was very nice. He was older, smelled of spicy stuff, and had a brown beard that had flecks of tan something in it. I'm hoping that the flecks were wood-chips of sorts, and not bread crust. Or, if it was bread crust, that it was recent bread crust, and not bread crust from 42 days ago. But, whatever, who am I to judge about beard-bread crusts and the keeping of them. He asked me about my helmet, and we joked about his glory days spent on motorcycles and picking up the ladies. He also told me about his dream to ride helmet-less across the United States, a feat which would not only be very long, very bum-soreifying, but also very illegal in most states. All in all, it was a nice little visit at the key kiosk with, Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man.
Then, he handed me my pink electric key, I stuck it on my key-chain, walked out to my bike, started it up and off I zoom-zoomed away through the traffic, back home to my apartment. When I arrived at my destination, I unloaded my body from the saddle of my bike, and walked to my apartment door with my prized electric pink key in hand. I stuck the little neck of the key in the key hole, smiled, turned the key, and then smiled a little less...for it did not turn.
NOT THE PINK ELECTRIC KEY!? Y U NO WORK KEY!?
Suddenly all the magical electrical power that was once vibrating through the supercharged key, slowly died...as my hope for the key to ever open my front door died too. It was a very sad moment in time. I jiggled, and wiggled, and tried and then after I tried...I tried again...but the pink electric key would not open my front door.
Defeated, I took the pink electric key in my palm, wound up my arm, and launched the key across my apartment parking lot as far as I could muster.
...Just kidding. I didn't do this. I really wanted to though.
Instead, I loaded myself back onto my bike, rode back to Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man and presented him with the ill-manufactured and broken pink electric key. "Here" I mumbled. "The electric magic is gone." I stated, the key clanking softly as it fell from my hand and tumbled across the counter. Actually I think I said "This isn't working." But INSIDE, I wanted to tell him the later. He looked rather surprised, but took the broken key in his giant bear like paws, and stuck it back into the machine to grind what I think might be more electric magic into it.
This time, while the key was grinding, he told me about his health. And, let me tell you what, folks. Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man, does not have good health. His knees are going bad, and he really should sit on a stool while he's working, but sadly, he is not allowed to sit on a stool. So, instead, he stands and grinds magic into keys all day long, while his knee bones grind on one another. Suddenly, I felt really bad for making him grind my keys, and I told him so. I told him that he should be at home in a chair, reading the newspaper and eating brownies. He liked that idea. Right around that same time, the grinder stopped grinding, so he opened the machine and presented me with a NEWLY CHARGED PINK LIGHTING BOLT KEY saying "This one will work, I promise."Oh man, I was excited.
I repeated the ride home, unmounted my bike, stuck the electric key into the key-hole with eager and anticipation, closed my eyes, turned the key...and...nothing. NOTHING. Happened. The door didn't open. Lightning didn't come from the sky...unicorns weren't dancing on my front step...nothing.
He had told me specifically that it would work this time. HE PROMISED. I felt my face become hot, I WAS ANGRY AT MR BEARD BREAD CRUST MAN, He promised me the key would work! I was tired of his electro-powered magic keys, that weren't very magical at all.
Defeated, and angry. But wanting to keep my composure, I started up my bike again, rode it to the not-really-an-orchard-suppy-AND-a-horrible-key-makers-store and presented the non-supercharged key to the key Kiosk man. "I like visiting you, but I don't want to come back again." I mumbled. When I looked up, I was surprised to see the man I mumbled to was no longer Mr. Beard Bread Crust man, instead Mr. Beard Bread Crust man, was replaced by a rather attractive man with a name tag that read "John." He thought I was weird for saying that, but took my broken pink lightning key, laughed a bit at its' atrociousness and asked me to pick out another key. I decided to give the Pink electric lighting bolt key ONE LAST chance. As I handed the brand new un-cut key to John, I whispered a silent prayer over it, that it would Puh-lease, oh-Puhlease, oh PUH-lease, work this time. As John cut my key, he hummed a couple lines of a Mumford and Sons song. He wasn't as entertaining to talk to as Mr. Beard Bread Crust Man (in fact, he didn't talk at all), but he was much more nice to look at.
Fast forward...
I stood nervously pacing outside my front door. Still wearing my helmet. Newly cut key (by John) in hand. Sweat accumulating on brow, under helmet. There was one thing that was keeping me on the outside of my apartment. And it was, my door. Which was locked. I held the answer to get inside, or did I?
My hand trembled a little as I extended it while holding the key. With each continued arm extension, the jostling increased, until I had to grasp my key-holding hand with my other hand, for stability purposes. The key slid inside the lock, I let out my breath with a giant puff (not realizing I had been holding it in the first place) and firmly turned the key to the right. IT TURNED! Wait. No. It didn't. It half-turned. I tried to finish the turn, to complete the full turn, I jostled and jostled, but the key would not move. At this point, I was still in denial, this key works, I just knew it. I must have simply turned it too fast, or perhaps too slow? I pulled it out, gained some ramming speed, and shoved it back into the lock again. Slowly, I turned the key to the right, *click* it hit what felt like a little itsy bitsy lock-wall, and it would not budge any further. "ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!?" I bellowed up into the sunny sky, my giant helmet-head flailing about in protest. In retrospect, I should have closed my eyes while I did this, because when I looked back down at the lock and proceeded to attempt to find the key-hole with the key again, I couldn't from all the sun-spots which clouded my vision. So, there I was, grumbling, moaning, half-blinded, big-helmet head, perhaps slightly-swearing, sweating, and cursing Mr. Beard Crumb Man and John for all of my key troubles....when it hit me: The giggles.
It started out slightly. The awareness of the absolute ridiculousness that was happening on my front porch, the idiocy of what I probably looked like to the passerby's, the fact that I was still wearing my helmet and trying to make a magical pink lightning key work in my door, when it obviously would rather not. All at once, it was all so very hilarious to me. And, so, there I stood with my giant head, on my front porch, 3rd pink lightning bolt fail key in hand, shaking with the giggles.
Thank God I got the giggles, no seriously. Because I'm pretty sure if I wasn't granted the giggles, I would have gone back to John, and with my furry taken the 3 broken keys, unlocked his chest with them, pulled out his still-beating heart, and thrown it at Mr. Beard Bread Crust man's face. That's how angry I was in that moment. Something so silly, like a key, not working in my door, gave me the furry of 1 million momma bears, who's cubs have just been antagonized. It really is quite silly, how furious we can get over the most idiotic things. Like magical lightning bolt keys, that don't work.
"Fourth times the charm, right?" I muttered to myself as I loaded my rump onto my bike for what I prayed to be my final time. When I arrived at the all-too familiar Orchard Supply and Hardware store, I was greeted by the door man "There was a girl who just came in here...she looked just like you!" "You don't say!?" I laughed. Then, I marched over to the key kiosk counter, looked John in the face and said "John, John, can we be real with one another? Let's be real right now. This is my fourth time back at this same counter, with my fourth pink-lightning bolt key that does not work. I believe Jesus is trying to teach me patience with this experience, so I'm not angry, but I would really like this teaching lesson to be over, very, very soon. So, you're going to take a new lightning bolt key, cut it correctly, inspect it to make sure it's cut correctly, and Lord willing I won't be back here to bother you again. Deal?"
He looked at me with big eyes, squeaked "Deal." and quickly went to work. While he was working, I busied myself with the mentos. There was practically a whole shelf solely dedicated to mentos. I like mentos, so I took a couple roles, hoping they weren't 30 years old, like some of the other candy looked.
When I got home, I stood on my porch with the fourth pink lightning bolt key in my hand. I wasn't angry, I wasn't giggly, I had come to the point of accepting that perhaps this key wouldn't work too. Perhaps I would have to go back to Orchard Hardware and Supply store 20 more times, and that would be OK with me. Why would it be OK? Because I first off, John was really attractive. Secondly, (and more importantly) I realized, in the grand scheme of things, it really didn't matter how many times I got the wrong key, what mattered was that eventually it would be the right key. And, no matter how many times it was the wrong key, I was determined that eventually...the door would open. It was just a matter of time.
I placed the 4th magical pink lighting bolt key into the lock, gave it a little turn to the left, and felt the lock-mechanism working inside until the door, swung open freely. It worked! I was inside! Ecstatic, I cried a little, did a mini happy dance (while still wearing my helmet) and attempted to kiss the key. Although, due to still wearing my helmet, I accidentally just bonked it on the front of my mouth-guard piece. But, I think it was the thought that counts.
Lessons learned through this experience:
- Patience
- Sometimes you just have to disassociate from the emotion(s), and keep trying.
- I will NEVER loose this key. There will be NO "Where are the keys hiding this time?" games with this fella.
- ...and do not go to Orchard Supply and Hardware for cactus's, mason jars, or keys.
Love you all, I'm going to bed. And, brother Scott, you better appreciate this pink-lighting bolt key. Or. Else.
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