A couple days ago, being the amazing wife that I am, I went to the garage to get a suitcase out for the hubs. (Our garage on the first floor, obviously, and we are on the third) I put Coop in the stroller and started pulling out suitcases. I don't know about you, but we have terrible luck with suitcases. We have bought pricey ones from Macy's, crap ones from Wal-Mart and everything in between. They all get destroyed in a few trips. It is awful. Anyway, I thought I had chosen a good one, so I picked up Coop and off we went. When I pulled the suitcase, I realized it had a weird wheel and didn't pull quite right. I set the keys and garage opener down by the door and went to get a different one. Once I got that one, I couldn't find my keys. I searched everywhere. I pulled out every suitcase and layed them in a row on the ground. Nothing. I searched for about 30 minutes and then I started to freak. There I am, in the garage, with a baby. No cell phone, no diapers, no food. I searched for another 30 minutes. I figured the only reasonable explanation, since I left them by the door, is that someone took them. (I am pretty paranoid and seem to always jump to some kind of ridiculous assumption.)
I started crying. I went to the neighbors and they weren't home. No one was home, actually; it was the middle of the day. A couple people walked by, but I just figured they were the ones that stole my keys and were scoping out the things they wanted to take. Then the handy, dandy maintenance man came past on his golf cart. I sucked it up and went up to him. As soon as I started talking, the tears starting pouring. He kept saying, "I'm sorry, mam, I can't understand you." Between sobs and sniffing up my snotty nose, I managed to tell him what happened. He searched my garage. That was embarrassing enough as it was. No keys. He let me borrow his phone and I called the hubby. Niagara started flowing again. He said the same thing. "Molls, I can't understand you." I was terrified because he was leaving town that night and I was sure Coop and I were going to be kidnapped and sold on ebay.
Long story short, well, not so short, handy dandy let me in my house, we called the police (yes, the police) and I called to have the ridiculously expensive push button car starter things replaced. Still sobbing at this point, by the way. After all my drama, hubs decided he needed a bigger suitcase. We went down and when he pulled out the suitcase, guess what was jammed underneath the closed handle? My keys and garage door opener. Who pushes the handle down with that crap underneath? Apparently, me.