Quick post.
I'm stressed.
And how do I know?
My stupidity regarding keys, that's how.
I always seem to be pathetically moronic when dealing with keys--a sure sign I'm stressed.
I rode last night to rehearsal with Chris. I got back too close to midnight to be specific. I immediately took a shower and crashed.
I went downstairs this morning, only to discover I'd neither locked nor deadbolted our door. Oops!
Right before I left for school, I was searching for my car keys. Nowhere. I was recalling my last recollection of having them. I remembered that I had had to retrieve my shoes from my car prior to getting in Chris's. I looked outside. Sure enough, in the passenger door, my key was in the door! For over 12 hours!!!!!!!!!!!! Much as I like my place, I'll readily admit to not living in the most safe of places. It's no BAD, it's just not in the most secure part of Carson. I'm a complete idiot.
To be fair, this title is actually not a song lyric. It is, however, on the soundtrack for the musical The Secret Garden, right after the song "Show me the Key."
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