The Story Of My Keys

In the midst of all this bishop become-ing we were doing, was one of the craziest days I have ever lived. And there have been a few.
Let me tell you about it.
Last week, the office manager from the last place I worked for real, called to let me know that the architect in the office had passed away. (I had an inkling something was up because the only other time in five years she had called was when he had the heart attack before this one.) She told me they were having a memorial on Tuesday (last Tuesday) and would I like to come. I thought, sure. Time had dulled the wounds and it seemed like a nice thing to do.
So. Tuesday morning I got up, dressed in my funeral attire and headed west to the church. I saw all the guys from the office, got caught up with things, heard the service, which was lovely, and we all headed over to the hotel for a lunch. The hotel was near the beach and had valet - which was paid for - and did I mention that my car was sick and in the shop so I was driving Tarzan's car. (Had had to drop Tarzan off at work early in the morning, do my stuff and at the end of the day pick him up again.)
I left Tarzan's car with the valet and went to lunch, which was lovely, ate with the guys, MC was nice to me and we carried on a conversation of pleasantries - unusual - and went back up to the valet to get my car. Turns out the valet was NOT prepaid and so everyone in front of me was really angry about having to pay $14 for their cars. It irritated me too but what were we to do? The woman's father had just died, who was going to whine about having to pay for their car?
I got in my car, drove almost home, stopping at the store for some refreshments and supplies for the Spa Night we were having that evening.
Did I mention I had a huge combined Relief Society activity that evening? (Relief Society and Young Women for both our ward and the Spanish speaking ward we share our building with.)
I got home close to 4:00 and only when I got to the door of the house did I realize that I did not have my house keys on my key ring. Weird. I called the hotel - the only place I had not had my keys - and sure enough I had "dropped them." (Total lie.) However, there was not enough time to turn around and go all the way across town to the hotel, come all the way back and make it in time to get Tarzan and still get to the activity.
So we left my keys, I went to the school and borrowed Tarzan's keys in order to change and fetch other things for the activity, fetched him and we ate dinner in the car on the way to the church. The activity was a grand success:

 

(In my humble opinion) and Tarzan was very productive in his meetings.
But my keys were still on the other side of town.
I was able to get them the next day, after all the work stuff and the car nonsense - that's another story to tell, my poor car - but the dude at the desk made me wait forever for help and forever to fetch my keys from security and then insisted that I had dropped my house keys - off my key ring - and I was very fortunate that they had found them. I sort of think they wanted a tip at the valet desk but I was not in the mood.

This is me and this sort of stuff happens only to me.