Lost keys

I CAN'T FIND my $%^$% *@ keys. I am way too much like my mother, God rest her soul, who once turned left instead of right and nearly ended up in Montreal instead of our house in London, Ontario.

I may have lost them in the Washington Park snow. We gathered yesterday to help Cheeks McGee make a video for his rendition of "White Christmas." We did snow angels and they may have fallen out of my coat pocket.

Maybe I lost them in the snow. (Photo courtesy Mike Sorenson)

But hey ... I don't remember putting them in my coat pocket before I went to the park.

I think I remember putting them in my pocket before we trooped up to the Second String Music roof. Maybe. I can't remember, actually.

I constantly misplace coffee cups, picks, tuners, guitars, hats, gloves, life itself. Sheryl makes me wear a Snark tuner lanyard, but I have to remember to put the tuner back on the lanyard. I'm missing one right now, as a matter of fact.

In the course of a good night I might drink three beers. But it averages out to less than one beer because I put the bottle down, then can't find it, then open another one. GUH.

Maybe Fast Eddie batted my keys under a couch, shelf or fridge. Maybe Frank Haxel stole them. Maybe.

In the end, it's my own fault. But if you see my keys in Washington Park when the snow thaws .... I will trade you a tuner for them.

If I can find my tuner.