I was at a gathering once and a woman I knew entered the room wearing a lanyard around her neck, a small bundle of keys dangling at the bottom. I assumed she was in charge of guarding some super-secret confidential information. My esteem of her rose immediately. Before too long, she relayed the story about the lanyard.
Apparently her daughter was visiting and noticed that her mom’s level of personal disorganization resulted in repeatedly misplacing her keys. After several searches of the premises for the errant keys, her daughter suggested that her mom just wear them around her neck.
“Well, honey, if it gets that bad, I will.”
“Mom, it is that bad.”
Her honesty, humility and humor in revealing this personal weakness increased my esteem of her even further.
My own key crisis occurred this past weekend. Over the span of two days I enlisted Cristy in conducting two household-wide searches for my set of errant keys. Both times they turned up in logical locations where, in my absent-mindedness, I did not think to look: once in my jacket pocket (!) and once on the kitchen counter beneath my backpack.
In her exasperation, Cristy insisted that we install a key hook where I would be required to place my keys upon entering the house. I selected a location where I would be sure to see the key hook, at eye level, upon entering the house every time. Within a couple of hours the pretty new hook (formerly a decorative measuring spoon holder) was available for use.
I am happy to report that since the last key-loss incident, I have been 100% successful at keeping track of my keys in the house. I know exactly where they are, picking them up just as I walk out the door and looping them over the hook immediately upon entering. This is not to say that a key hook is a silver bullet cure for the overall absent mindedness that is slowly but surely spreading through my living, breathing consciousness. But it helps.