Funny story, today my father lost the car keys. So I’m in the kitchen minding my business (mixing brownies, boiling eggs and prepping some curry) as he runs around the house huffing and puffing over ‘where the heck are they keys’.
And I think to myself, Should I help him? And I answer myself, “Don’t worry about it.” Because I know 100% that they will turn up. Key always turn up, hardly anything ever gets lost, and ‘misplaced’ is not a reason to stop what I’m doing.
Except my Dad feels differently, and he’s pulling up the bed sheets and remaking the bed; he’s going through the newspapers and shaking them for that ‘jingle’ sound; he’s going back to the car and retracing his steps; he’s checking the kitchen (and I am mostly ignoring him, except for suggesting he leave it alone for a while so the memory can float up in his brain) and having no luck.
So I slip into my little pre-Easter world. There’s loads to do, plus I have all kinds of side work I ought to be focusing more on . . . this whole ‘multi-tasking without over loading’ thing is posing a bit of a challenge. I have work to do. I do it. But then sometimes I can’t calm down, and photo booking isn’t always the answer.
Today I had to walk away from my computer because it was making this ‘whirring’ sound so loudly I thought it might crash. Crashing computers suck. So do crashing brains (like my brain last Tuesday after two meetings and a nerve-wracking viewing of the Hunger Games, which was good, but not exactly the post-exertion cool down I should have followed.), which means this upcoming Easter weekend in general is going to be awesome. Family, food, and chocolate – hello, heaven on earth!
But thank goodness for the weekend . . . and yet there’s still so much to do . . . and the brownies aren’t looking their best because I overcooked them by about five minutes. . . but the curry looks divine.
“ARE THESE THE KEYS?” my dad declares, heading into the kitchen and waving them around.
“Yep,” I reply, still lost in my world and trying to be Zen with my food.
“They were in your coat pocket!” he tells me
(Now he wasn’t furious or anything like that, actually he was relatively cool headed considering he’d spend a good deal of time thinking he’d gone crazy, searching the house and getting nowhere.)
And all I can say is: “Hun?” Because I didn’t drive the car today, and I sure can’t remember picking up those keys.
But there you have it – totally my fault. Apparently I’m the one with too much on my mind and absent-mindedly picking things up and placing them elsewhere.
(Once I put a container of milk in the cupboard with the dishes, but I was distracted by a boy so maybe that’s okay.)
So Dad, I apologize. You are not crazy. I’m crazy. Poor man was put through the ringer and all along I was totally nonchalant, and all along it was totally my fault.
But at least the curry is delicious. And he seems pretty happy eating it right now, so I guess all is forgiven.
Moral of this story . . . Sometimes it’s better just to stop and help others, despite being wrapped in ourselves . . . next time he loses his keys (and he will – and it will not be my fault), I’ll help discover where they were mislaid. It’s basically the least I can do!