Well, Wednesday and it's time to go to my noon indoor cycling class, now to collect what I need. Exercise clothes, yes, they are being worn. And a spoiler alert: My car is on the street, not in my space behind the locked gate, and in turn my gym bag is in the car; the cleat shoes I use for the class are in it. Well, with warm weather, instead of an extra garment in which to carry things or yon gym bag, I will use a member of my now prolific fleet of reusable shopping bags from various sources. So: cell phone. Okay, where's a cell carrier? I can't find one so, typical: into the bag. Wallet? Keys? I carry two sets of the latter, the smaller one is for driving and the myth of not taxing the ignition switch.

On the way out I check the mail, and decide to no reader's surprise to scoop it into the bag, but all of it doesn't make the trip. Grrr! Get the mail off the ground, a physical manifestation of the feeling of running late, then out the gate for which I don't need a key to exit. Parking by the place is a little more distant than I figured but I still do a quick inventory. Hey! Where are "big keys"? Those are the ones to gates and doors. They are absent from the suddenly not so impotent bag, and looking under the seats and rampaging through the gym bag reveals nothing.

I drive home, at least faster the noon type traffic here is faster than usual, and at least I'm all but certain I didn't leave them in the trunk lock---which has happened---and look over where I drove previously just in case. At home, I don't see them on the unimproved shoulder on which I parked or inside the side pedestrian gate. Since I can't get in and no one is visible to whom to call out, I go around front to the main gate. There they are, hanging from my mail box! If only I had needed to open the parking gate. I make a call to one tenant and he buzzes me in.

I decide to go to the class, even if I end up with a short 25 minutes of it. But on the act of changing shoes---I'm missing one! I take class using the 'baskets' and it turns out to be in the trunk, a casualty of the frantic search. All this and an work meeting about ominous things and decisions the day before. The secret to a vigorous inner life is turmoil, it would seem.

But wait, one more just after writing the last sentence. This morning I had two loads of laundry and one was done with the very last of a bottle of detergent. A new one was ready to go---now where was it? I recall "bumping" into it as if it was still in a bag, but the bags were empty (not around me, you're right! But empty of detergent) and it wasn't out in the car, although admittedly with my trunk my next car could be hidden therein. So it was off to the store to utilize a $5-off coupon and buy more soap. Coming back just now from doing the dryer switch, I saw my new bottle inside the door----and the missing one. A real default bachelor spot as opposed to under the sink as alleged normal people do, and I missed it! It was hidden by a corn broom, though; however, now I can do lots of laundry. Now about quarters. . . .