Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Soft tissue is a piece of cake
It’s the inorganic world that defies me.
I’ve misplaced our mailbox key. Mind you, I’m not delighted that we have to have a key to our mailbox. Paranoid people like it, I suppose, since a key implies that no one can steal their mail. On the other hand, if you’re paranoid, you probably figure someone has already made a copy of your key, perhaps several copies, and the creepy guy who lives down the block and drives that battered Volvo is right now steaming open your American Express bill to discover just how many purchases you’ve made from Xandria this month.
So, really, I don’t understand the point of locked mailboxes.
It was a small key on a tiny ring attached to a circular, foil-rimmed, paper tag. I kept it in our Camry, in the detritus-catcher (cup holder) behind the parking brake. Sometimes I put it into the other detritus-catcher in front of the parking brake, but since Wednesday, it has been in neither place. I’ve tossed the car, twice nearly gotten my upper torso stuck in the driver’s side foot well (and, yes, it’s possible to reach the horn from there, just in case), and I am assured that the key has not fallen beneath either seat. It’s not in the crack between the seat bottom and back. It’s not in the ash tray. It’s not in the glove compartment.
I’ve checked all of my shirt and pants pockets. No go.
Today, I had the bright idea of looking into the recess from which the parking brake emerges. I could see something round, a glint of metal . . . my key, perhaps? And was this sufficient encouragement to rip apart something I would no way, no how be able to put back together? (Admittedly, I could possibly reach this object with any one of the long forceps I still own. Ripping-apart was and is an option of last resort.)
From private practice, I still have a flexible fiberoptic laryngoscope and light source. I broke it out, found an extension cord to power the light source, and went hunting. Sadly, the two round objects in the recess are (A) a washer and (B) a quarter. But I give myself points for resourcefulness.
I went to the post office, and they wanted $50 to change the lock and give us new keys. Then the woman helping me discovered that our homeowner’s association owns the boxes, so we’re out of luck for now.
I remembered that when we moved in, there were a buttload of random keys in a drawer. I was pretty sure we only had one mailbox key, but maybe, just maybe, one of those keys was a backup mailbox key. And maybe one is. I don’t know. I can’t find those damned keys anywhere.
Don’t get me started on how difficult it was to change the bathroom light bulbs.
D.
I know it’s not funny, but I got a laugh out of what you found after you got resourceful.
Every locked mailbox has two keys, (one for each spouse is the way I look at it). And by the way, our LOCKED box was broken into last year. The postal service had to come out and fix the locks. We don’t have a HOA; I hope yours was able to give you an answer.
yeah, if only I could find those other keys!
I left a message for the HOA. Not surprisingly, they don’t work on the weekend.
You should see the key ring I used to carry when I was a kid. I have no idea now how it would have fit in my pocket. Maybe I hooked them on my belt loop? Anyway, it was pretty much too big to lose. Well, nothing’s too big to lose, I suppose. But, I never lost them, so that must count for something.
The lesson is to put keys on something big.
I have a big, heart-shaped bell on my key ring that makes it wonderfully easy to find my keys. I just wander around shaking things I might have left them in – purses, coats, packs – until something chimes.
I used to have one of those goodies you add to your key chain, which beeps when you press a remote control.
We lost the remote.
I now keep my school keys on a lanyard a kid gave me for Christmas. It has skulls on it.
Then I discovered the damn keys weigh too much and irritate my neck.
I don’t know how locking mailboxes work, but could you have locked the key in the mailbox?
Time for some keyhole surgery, perhaps?
we only have one key for our mailbox. it’s kind of lame. my roommate sarah has it, and generally checks once a day…i really hope she never loses it!
Here’s a question for y’all: how many years before mail (except for packages) disappears altogether?
Ask again after Wednesday. 😉