Keys

I was contacted the other day by a woman who wanted me to come by in the morning for a “no-strings attached sexual encounter.” I get many of these emails on a regular basis. So many women want to sleep with me that I have set up a system that looks for certain words in the content of the message and puts them into a hierarchy of folders. Most of them end up in the trash. Attachments are automatically stripped from the emails, scanned for viruses and placed in their own folder. Emails containing links end up in the trash, but all emails from redheads are flagged priority and sent to a special account that immediately sends a text message to my cell phone. With all the safeguards I have in place, it is rare for one of these emails to end up in my inbox.

That same day I briefly lost my keys. This was not a good thing. I looked in all the places I usually lose my keys, the pockets of coats, in my pants, under the couch, in the kitchen sink. I didn’t check the car because I can’t get in my apartment without my keys, and I was in my apartment. After I looked in the usual lost places I began to get paranoid. I tried thinking of all the places I would go if I were keys; the doors and locks I would open, vaults, diaries, empty buildings and closets. The keys weren’t there either, so I checked my coat and pants and couch and sink again. They weren’t there still. Where were they? In my car. There are only two things that can drive me to distraction, a woman requesting a “no-strings attached sexual encounter” and losing my keys. Is this really happening? The answer is always no.