Lost

Me: Did you lose your keys? (he had been borrowing my keys all day)

Father-in-law: (with certainty) No ... (then hesitates)I mean, I don't know where they are, but I don't think they are lost yet.

Clearly lost has a slightly different meaning in some contexts... I mean, if you don't know where they are aren't they lost? Or are they just misplaced, until it is permanent and they are never found?

Ah, keys!

My husband's family is a black hole for keys... if you lend them your keys, always demand them back immediately after the key-task is finished. They laugh at me because I am really anal about getting my keys back, I will come after you, right after you open the door and say: my keys, please. I will hunt you down...

Keys are important here because there are so many to get in and even to get out of a residence. There is a pad-locked gate outdoors to get out to the street. If you don't have a key, you can't get out. There is a barred door and then the front door, which locks when it is shut. (Don't get nervous for me with so many bars, I am not in danger--it is just life here) There is a key to the back sliding bar door that covers the sliding glass door, which also clicks locked when shut. We have locked ourselves out before (Thank you Nico! and another good reason to carry your keys on your person at all times) and had to slide Nico through two of the bars over the front window (thank goodness his head just fit through... next year we won't be so lucky).

When we went to the beach house (which has no bars, by the way, but it does have an alarm), my husband took both sets of keys to the truck... and at one point he realized that we couldn't find either set... for DAYS! How does that happen? I honestly don't understand.

I never lose or misplace keys, like ever. I always know where my keys are, I always put them in the same places or carry them on my person. So it is just bizarre that I live in a house where no one can ever find keys... seriously, like ever. Keys have been an issue as long as I have known my husband. Handy as I am, I am an excellent key-spotter. If you set them down and can't remember where, I'll tell you, because I saw them. My mind registers things like that.

They are also notoriously bad at searching for lost items (that weren't just set down somewhere odd). It's like they just can't fathom where they might be. I keep muttering: "Retrace your steps" and "What were you wearing?"

So I finally did an exhaustive search for the truck keys... and found one set of in a pants- pocket. The other set was found days later in another pants-pocket.

So in a sense, the riddle has been solved, at least for some of the misplacements... pockets is the answer. The keys just stay there and the pants come off.

So curious.

I suggested to my FIL that he look in last night's jacket pocket.

Another key mystery has been solved. The not-lost keys have been found.

Home Alone

It is Sunday afternoon. The house is quiet. I am home alone. My husband and kids are at the beach house. I am headed there Monday evening for two weeks. (I know, my life is so tough, we've been here a few months and now we get a vacation). February is vacation month in Chile, it is warm and sunny and breezy, the city is quieter and more relaxed, the streets are not as congested, and a good percentage of Santiaguinos go to the beach or down to southern provinces.

I stayed behind to get some work done. (I am assuming that when I said "work" my husband didn't imagine that it included blogging, but I needed a break (ahem, from facebook) so here I am.)


Yesterday I got up and went running. This morning I played Pink full blast as I got ready for the day. I have gotten TONS of work and reading done. There is no mess... anywhere. There is no cooking, no dishes, no dirty clothes. I have no obligations.

I mean, I miss them, of course, I miss them

But this is HEAVEN!

I am going to be teaching at a university in March (fall and the school year here start in March). I am excited, but there are moments when I am in an outright panic. I'll be teaching courses for the first time--which involves a boatload of preparation and reading. I am also in charge of a Master's program, which I half laugh about because I feel ridiculously underprepared for such a position. I will be teaching in the MA program and in the undergraduate program.

Plus, they keep asking me to do more. At some point I started worrying about how in the crap I was going to organize my time to get everything done. And then one of the program directors asked me to take another class. I blame it on his accent. I wanted so badly to say no. But he is from Argentina (though he is not one of the infamously arrogant Porteños) and his voice is so smooth and sing-songy and he uses that voseo "Mirá" instead of "Mira". And I couldn't say no...

And I alerted my hubs, that apparently protesting is futile, I cannot say no to an argentino, so he stands forewarned (and he is desperately working on changing his accent-HA!)

Being alone here is funny. Because everyone asks you if you are scared. (to stay home alone, to go running in this neighborhood alone, to walk the two blocks from the subway at night... alone). I think they think I am just clueless to all the dangers lurking in their city. I am not... but sheesh! What am I supposed to do?

I am not really frightened to sleep at home alone, but my first night I woke up in the middle of a night because there was a noise INSIDE my bedroom. I jumped up and there was a random cat that had come in an open window and was roaming around my bedroom. (Eileen is so thrilled that she is not the only one that attracts random cats--though I couldn't find her post where that happened) So now I close a bunch of windows at night.