Um, I found my keys.

When you have a baby nobody warns you that you're going to start losing your keys. At least, that's my excuse. Today I ripped the house apart searching for my keys (which happen to have a tiny, workable Visa card attached to them). I searched through my purse, searched the diaper bag, the baby carrier, my rain jacket, my fleece jacket, my fleece vest, my grocery bag, my purse again, Jeff's car, my car, the diaper bag again. I found two binkies and four used cloth diapers that had been fermenting for days. But I didn't find my keys until I was at the grocery store and looked in my purse for the THIRD time. My purse is an eight-inch green ball with handles. There they were in the pocket.