It wasn't until late in the afternoon when I was getting on the subway to go back to the apartment that I reached my hand into the right-hand side pocket of my pants.. I'm a creature of habit and the right side is where I always keep my house keys. Change and lip balm go into the left and the wallet goes into the back. My newly pressed keys were not in the right-hand pocket. I checked the left just in case I had a lapse in continuity. No keys. It was cool enough for jacket. I checked all its pockets. Like Joan Rivers' sex life it came up empty. One last stab into the right pocket and that's when I discovered the hole in the side of the pocket, the escape route of my new set of keys. You never get cell service in the subway. It was 4:30, the very end of quitting time for any construction crew in New York. I dialed Yaokim in one futile attempt to totally embarrass myself with my stupidity. No answer. I left an S.O.S. from my sinking ship. Desperation makes me do strange things. As I got off the subway my cellphone rang. Yaokim had twenty minutes before he had to get back to New Jersey. He'd meet me at the ACE in fifteen. Old age was no deterrent to my dash to the corner of West 90th and Columbus. Embarrassment aside, I now had another set of keys and I had avoided a night of relying on the kindness of strangers for a place to hang my hat that night.
The next morning, still less than twenty-four hours since I arrived back in New York, I had rented a car, gone out to do a site survey in New Jersey, returned to Manhattan and picked up a lamp on the upper Eastside that we needed repaired. When I arrived a detective was at the counter asking to see their video surveillance footage one more time. I had no idea of what she was looking for but it delayed my getting anyone to help retrieve my lamp so I could get out of there. It was as I was returning the lamp to our apartment that I realized I couldn't find my cellphone. I did find my keys were safely in my right pants pocket this time. When I got up to the apartment I called the lamp store on our landline but I knew the results. The owner who had been working with the detective said he'd look at the videotape but no one had turned in my phone in. I called my cellphone but no one answered not even my own voice telling me to leave a message.
They say bad things happen in threes. I'm hoping this was the last of my bad luck. It was depressing enough to make doing last week's posting the first missed week in my blogging history. Please forgive me, and to add to the embarrassment I discovered today that my apartment keys were attached to my car keychain all the time safely stored in a plastic bag at the bottom of the fabric sack inside inside my satchel.
A belated Happy Thanksgiving.