It's been a good run, these last few years. I thought my keys and I had finally and peacefully and perhaps a touch ruefully resigned ourselves to one another's company. Forevah.

2 pm. Left keys in restaurant at lunchtime. Spent many fruitless minutes believing I had locked them in the truck before Jeff trotted back into the bagel place and found them.

5 pm. Arrived at the movie theater only to discover that once again I had gotten the wrong theater (how many times have I made this mistake in Greensboro? How many times will I make it again?) and so we hussled back to the truck only to discover that I had locked. my. keys. in. the. fucking. truck.

5:03 pm. Successful break-in involving my quick wits ("what about your shoe laces, Jeff?") and Jeff's steady hands and clever knot skills and brilliant use of physics. So fast! Decide that if a reality show comes along that requires teams of two to solve challenges in a race to the finish, we should totally sign up because we would kick BOOTY.

5:35 pm. Standing up to go into the second and correct movie theater, Jeff asks, "what did you do with the keys?" I panic and shriek, "keys? KEYS? I DON'T HAVE THE KEYS! YOOOOOOUUUUU DOOOOO!" But no, no friends, he does not. Jeff trots off to the grocery store to see if we left them in the candy isle while I trot off to the box office to see if we somehow threw my keys with the big heavy knife attached to them at the box office kid by accident. We did not do that.

5:45 pm. Check one last time under the old poplar tree where we had been sitting post-grocery store, pre-movie, enjoying a delicious summertime peach snack. Locate. Keys. (and where Jeff was sitting, thankyouverymuch). Chase down Jeff, race back to the theater just in time to suffer threw the utter cliched banality of Mean Girls.

God. That was a baaaaaaaad movie.