I’m continuing the trauma from Gettysburg in this week’s low. I’m surprised I was able to keep up with my work considering what a mess I was after that trip. 

I drove back from Gettysburg on Saturday, January 28. I was there for less than 24 hours, during which time I managed to throw up. Yippee. I came back a day earlier than my friend Ally because I like to have nice, quiet Sundays on campus. I get my work done, do all of my laundry, and generally just get my head screwed on straight for the week ahead. 

I got back to campus around 7 pm on Saturday, and I was mentally and physically exhausted. Driving makes me so tired, and on top of that, I hadn’t eaten in 24 hours because of my gastrointestinal issues (see my last blog if you’re confused). Overall, I was not firing on all cylinders.

I parked my car in the lot behind my dorm (not where I have a permit to park), so I could unload my stuff. I had to make three trips from my car to my dorm, because somehow I always come back to campus with more stuff than I left with – food and clothes that fit into my backpack on the way there but can’t be shoved in on the way back. It was cold, it was decently late at night, and I was tired. 

I am usually very responsible about locking my car when I leave it, even just to walk to my dorm. But, by my third trip, I couldn’t be bothered to take off my glove to press the lock button on my key. “I’ll be gone for two seconds,” I thought, “it’ll be fine.” I threw my keys in my cup holder (or so I thought) so they’d be there when I got back to my car. It was a perfect plan; I didn’t have to take off my gloves, and I could just sit down, grab my keys, and go move my car to its permitted lot when I had dropped off my stuff.

When I returned from my dorm, I reached into my cup holder for my keys. They weren’t there.

“I swear I left them right here,” I thought. I looked in the crevice between the seats, under them, and on the ground all around my car just in case I accidentally dropped my keys outside. My crusty white lanyard was nowhere to be found.

I went back to my room, because if my keys weren’t in my car, they had to be in my room – those were the only two places I had gone since I got back. 

My keys were not under the bed, in any of my bags, lost in my comforter, on my desk, in my pocket, or in the bathroom (where I checked because I had no other options). They were gone.

This was exactly how I needed to finish a weekend gone wrong – losing my keys. Thank goodness I have a spare, so I was able to move my car to its lot, but it’s still not good to have missing car keys. Those things are expensive, and plus, it’s stressful knowing someone else could have your keys.

I did another thorough search of my car, but to no avail. I combed through my room three times and retraced my steps from the parking lot to my dorm again, but my lanyard was still nowhere to be found. I even tried to go to the commons desk in Redifer to see if, maybe, someone turned it in. Nothing. My keys were really and truly lost. 

My dad reassured me that they would eventually turn up, but I was skeptical. I had looked everywhere. 

Fast forward. It had been a whole week since my Gettysburg trip, and I still had no idea where my keys were. I was functioning with my spare, which is not on a giant lanyard, and thus, is in grave danger of being lost. 

Then, this Saturday, February 4, I was getting ready to go to the barn. I decided to wear my heavy-duty boots, because it was really, really cold. The last time I had worn those boots was Gettysburg – Ally lives on a farm and it’s mud season, so she told me to bring my mud boots to her house. I stuck my foot into my boot and felt a weird lump.

“What the heck is in my shoe?” 

I stuck my hand in (a little bit fearfully), and what did I pull out? My missing keys. I must’ve stuck them in my boot for safekeeping when I was running from my car to my dorm, then forgotten about them. Keys found. One week later. 

I guess the key story is my low and high this week. I may lose a lot of stuff (see my blog about my dorm key), but at least I always end up finding it. I’m happy I have my car keys back (and that my dad can’t be mad at me for losing them anymore).