The keys. They have haunted me. Pony suggested doing what a friend of ours did when she lost a ring that was important to her--she went to a hypnotist who told her where it was.
I had stopped looking. I was waiting for. . .something, I don't know what. Lightning to strike, or something. And it happened!
No. Not lightning.
I found the keys. Apparently, I had hung them on the hook on the door to the front hall closet, where I always store my keys. Somehow, they had come off the hook.
Before you point out this was a logical place to look, I have to say I DID look! I took all the coats and boots and everything out of that closet to see if they had fallen in there--I looked all the way down to the floor!
But they weren't on the floor. No. They had caught on the dog's leash, on the hook part that fastens to his collar. When I picked up the leash to take him for a walk this evening, it was so heavy that it felt like his whole collection of canine bling was on it.
So. If ANYONE other than ME EVER walked the dog, they would have found my keys before I had to pay the locksmith all that money to get me into my own studio.
Hey. At least the dog loves me best.