The Door

I came home after doing errands. As I pulled up to the house, I discovered that my garage opener didn't work. So I parked the car at the curb, went to the door, and dug through my purse for my house keys. I couldn't find them, and began to feel my blood pressure rise.

Not satisfied that I had looked properly the first time, I looked again, and again. Still no keys. I thought my husband wasn't home, so I called him on his cell phone. Don't ask me what I was thinking, I don't think anymore, just act on instinct. I guess it made sense for me to call him, even if he was an hour away.

No answer on the phone, so I leave a message, the panic still rising in me. I go for a short walk, then call again and leave another message more frantic than the first.

But then I hear something that sounds like it's coming from inside the house. I hear my husband's voice, so I ring the bell.

"Why didn't you go through the garage?" he asks.

"The opener isn't working," I respond.

"I called you. Why didn't you answer?"

"You didn't call me at home."

" I called on your call phone."

"I don't know where my cell phone is, so I didn't hear it."

We find it in a pair of pants on the floor, out of batteries,.

I find my house keys later--in the fridge.

All of these cool ways we have to stay in touch and still we can't seem to reach the ones we live with.

SIGH!