Case Closed

Yes, dear readers, I have solved The Case of the Missing Keys. When I last wrote, the number one suspect was the adorable mastermind Cici. However, it appears that I have falsely accused her. She did seem highly suspect at the time, but I can definitively say that she is not the culprit. In fact, she has somewhat reformed her character--the other day Austin found her toothbrush in the recycling can, which means she's being more eco-friendly in how she gets rid of things. (Only plastics 1--7 in the recycling, Cici.)

But back to the case. Last night we had a foot of snow from our Sunday blizzard, so I put Cici to bed and Sammy and I went out to help Austin shovel. I put my snow coat on, tried to stick my arms in the sleeves, and found in one sleeve the elusive missing keys. !!! Of course I was in shock. The fact that the keys were in my sleeve would imply that I was in some way responsible for their loss. Who me? Couldn't be.  I have a cute coat to wear out and about in the winter and a more functional coat that I only wear when it snows, and it never snowed during the time the keys were lost. The snow coat containing the keys was hung neatly on a hanger, so it's not like I was in a huge hurry and ripped off the coat, leaving the keys behind in the sleeve.

I've been racking my brains trying to come up with a good reason for the keys to be in my sleeve. It's this sort of thing that haunts you the rest of your life, you know? My best guess is that my snow coat was in the basket by our garage door where I throw my cute coat and purse when  I come home. The keys slipped out of my coat pocket or purse and landed on top of my snow coat. When I got my snow coat out of the basket to hang it neatly in its place, the keys slipped inside and lodged in the sleeve. It sounds plausible. Kind of. I guess we could just leave it by saying that the keys appeared as mysteriously as they left. Case closed.



The Key to the Case

Call me Nancy Drew. I'm not quite as well-dressed as she is, but like her, I inevitably have to solve mysteries. This week, I've been working on The Case of the Missing Keys. Unfortunately, I have been one of the few people of interest in the case, because Austin was recovering from nasal surgery most of the week and didn't drive. I think I uncovered a vital clue last night though. I put the kids to bed, and exhausted, needed to watch a little HGTV to unwind. But where was the remote? I knew I had seen it right before supper on the sofa, and now it had totally disappeared. I geared up for The Search for the Black Remote. I searched high, I searched low, I dug around in the couch, I crawled under and around things, all the while muttering very un-Nancy Drew-ish phrases such as, "I hate my life."

Then in a flash of brilliance, I remembered a small *thunk* I had heard earlier while the kids were playing, and checked one of the few places I hadn't looked...the trash can. Yes, there it was, buried underneath a few pieces of trash and limp celery. The missing remote. I had just gained a new culprit for my Keys case.

  Not the crazy one, the small one.

 Look at those shifty eyes.

The next morning, I also uncovered a pair of the suspect's socks in the trash can, and my worry that our keys were now buried in our local landfill thanks to my child's new hobby changed to the calm serenity that comes with the certainty of disaster.

Well, I confess--I still have a little teeny-tiny hope left that the keys didn't get sent to the dump on Monday. When Sammy was the same age as Cici, we lost our car keys and thought they had been thrown away. Bleak despair, gloom all around. A few months later, we got out our Yahtzee game and found them inside. Joy, jubilation! In retrospect Sammy was very cute and clever for managing to find such a great hiding place. So I won't close the case quite yet. I've already eliminated the board games we had out this week, but as soon as I find a suitably fashionable frock to wear, I'm off to search my guitar case and the guest bathroom.

Wish me luck!