The Key

I'd say it didn't snap like a twig, it kind of... bent a little, then fell off. Sort of like Laffy Taffy. I'm talking about the key to my boyfriend's 1986 Volvo, which I have full use of until late tomorrow night. The key turned, but the lock stayed.

First, I thought, he's going to kill me. Approximately once a week I come home and say that I've lost my glasses/debit card/keys/wallet. Approximately once a month a pile of dirty laundry accumulates on the floor. Every so often, I neglect to lock the car/bicycle/door. It is a safe assumption that I'm not the most observant or careful person in existence...

Then I thought, I'll call my dad. Who answered. I'm such a bad daughter- he only receives calls about man things, like car problems, lifting and hauling, and anything that could be at all related to a hardware store. Like today. "Hey Dad, you think I'll be able to get a broken key replaced at the hardware store? Yeah, it's in two pieces. No, he doesn't have a spare." He reassures me that I will most likely be able to have it fixed there.

Next, I tell both the coffee shop guy, who is fairly well acquainted with us as a couple, and my frenemy/nemesis who calls before nine am to ask to go to the beach, that I'm in a state of panic.

The hardware store man tells me that I need to go to the Methodist church next door if I really need a miracle. He makes me a key for three dollars.

I try the key out at my apartment over my lunch break. A coworker is kind enough to sacrifice her entire lunch break to make sure my key works. That's what happens when you work at a non-profit; people are really nice.

Hallelujah, the key turns and the ignition starts. I call my boyfriend, who is actually on Coney Island at the time he receives my call, and tells me that he is immensely glad I waited to call him until everything was straightened out. I'm glad that this problem didn't incur any more expenses involving a lock smith, tow truck or Volvo dealership.