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Stupidity is as stupid does.

Bannedjoe

Well-known member
Another thing I try really hard to do, is not do stupid shit.
That's totally for other people, and I just don't have the time nor patience for it in myself.

I hate to start blaming stuff on my age, but more and more lately I'll be completely focused on doing something I really want to get accomplished, and suddenly in the middle, or even at the end, I'll realize I've done it all wrong, but at the time I was absolutely sure of what I was doing.

It would be much akin as to setting out to make pancakes.
I'm making pancakes....I'm making pancakes, I'm making pancakes, I sure am doing a good job making these pancakes, watch me go...I know exactly what I'm doing....Then bam!!!!! I'm holding a fucking plate of cheese burgers.

What the fuck was I thinking?
I thought I was making pancakes, I watched myself as I was pattying up the hamburger, but for some ungodly reason, it just didn't register that I wasn't making pancakes at all.

Ok, well that might have been exaggerating a little bit, but that's kinda what it feels like when this shit happens.
It's just doing something so fucking stupid and not realizing it when you're doing it, although you'd never do such a thing if you were paying attention, although you could have sworn you were paying attention when you did it.

Can any of you wrap your head around this, or is it just me?

I really try hard not to do stupid shit, it's not one of my habits this doing stupid shit thing.
Maybe I'm losing it or getting senile.
Maybe I caught the covid, didn't know it, and now I have this brain damage thing that folks are starting to talk about.
I don't know, but WTF, everybody else is using covid as their goto excuse, so I guess why not?

So just a day or two ago the weather was beautiful, and as I looked around after the recent rain, and windstorms that there was a bunch of crap that needed collecting, cleaned up, or disposed of.

I loaded up a bunch of stuff that I had been tripping over all winter, as well as a few piles I had been promising myself to eradicate, and loaded them into the back of my pickup for a trip to my own private crater I dug years ago for just such things.
It's the place things go when I decide I've gleaned every useful part off of them, and it's finally time to part with them, which is another thing I really hate doing, because odds are a week later I'll be down it the hole digging the motherfucker back up because now for some reason it's become useful to me again.

Anyways, burnables go in the firepit, and the unburnables go to my dump.

So that day I not only had the truck loading up, but I also had the firepit roaring with garbage, and my personal cardboard collection mostly consisting of boxes with with that smiley mouth weiner thing on it which had been piling up for months from the fine folks at Amazon distributing their Chinesium to me.

I stepped into the house to grab my truck keys, took a bag of garbage offered to me by my wife, and at the same time eyed the trash can sitting by my desk that really deserved some attention.
I gathered it all up, went outside, and tossed it all into the fire.

Abby, my Jack Russell, was eagerly waiting for me by the truck.
She don't miss a thing, and one of the things she doesn't miss best is anyone preparing to go for a drive anywhere.
She doesn't care where we go, all she knows is that she's going too, come hell or high water.

I opened the door for her to get in, and at the same time saw a few cans of dead paint, and a few other miscellaneous items sitting in the carport that might also enjoy a ride to the dump.
So I gathered them up, and into the truck they went.

I made one more trip into the house to grab my water jug and smokes then back out to the truck.
As I was about to turn the ignition, it occured to me that it was going to be quite difficult for me to do.
This was due to the fact that there were no keys in it.

Hmmmmmm.
I thought I put the keys in my truck.
I got out of the truck and rummaged through my pockets for the keys, but they weren't there.
Abby was wishing they were there because she was more than ready to go.

I told her to hang on because I must have left them back in the house when I went to get my water.
I do.
I really do tell my dog things like this because by now, I'm certain she understands every word in the english language, and by god, she deserves an explanation.

Heading back to the house I can't help but to check my pockets again.
I'm not sure why I think I'd miss a janitor sized ring of keys in my pocket the first time, but you know, it's just something you do.
Nope, still not there.

I check the kitchen table, nope.
The top of my desk doesn't bare them either.
I look by the sink, and the wife asks what I'm looking for.
I tell her my keys, and she imparts with her great wisdom that I just had them minutes ago.
Sometimes nothing drives me more nuts than someone stating the obvious.
Yeah, I know I just had them, and at the moment, I just don't, but I'll find 'em.
I head back out and look in the truck again.
I ask Abby, where are the keys?
 

Bannedjoe

Well-known member
You know, for all the one sided conversations I've had with her, she's never responded back, and in keeping with her record, she just looked at me keeping her mouth shut.
I retraced my steps back into the carport because I probably set them down when I picked up the paint.
To my surprise, they weren't there either, so I checked the back of the truck where I had set the cans.
Not there, so I check the carport one more time with zero luck.

Ok, now this is getting stupid.

As I walk back into the house, the wife asks, did you find them?
I just grumble to myself as I check my desk again as if I'd never pulled them out in the first place.

I walk back out paying close attention to the ground like I'm going to find them just sitting there like I had walked by them 5 times now.
I began looking in the back of the truck again, this time looking inside the boxes I had loaded only shortly ago, but they weren't there.
I'm now getting perturbed.
I never lose my keys.
I very rarely if ever misplace anything.
Everything has its special place, and I always adhere to my rules, one of which is if I pick a place for something to belong, I always put it back there so I'll know where to find it the next time I need it.

I just had my keys, dammit!

Believe it or not, I check my pockets again.
Son of a bitch, still not there.

I've run out of places to look, and as we all know things are always in the last place you look, so it's now time to look in other places whether I've been there or not.

I walk back in the house for the umpteenth time and I'm about to look in the freezer, because you never know, it's possible a guy could set his keys in the freezer while getting some cubes for his water jug, right?
The wife starts putting on her coat.

Where you going, I ask?

To come help you find your keys she replies.

I head back out to the truck, then back to the carport, and decide to look into my toolbox.
She does a quick walk around, then offers the stupid fucking suggestion I ever heard.

Maybe you threw them in the fire?

No.
Thanks, but no.
I didn't throw my fucking keys in the fire!
Well, you remember last month, she asks?

Yeah, I remember.

You threw over $600 worth of brand new prescriptions in the fire by accident.
I didn't mean to!
I know you didn't mean to!
Well, she says, accidents happen, that's why they're called accidents.

Not to this guy!
I did not throw my keys in the fire!
And besides, if I did, I would have heard them!

She headed back inside, and I spent another two hours looking.
I eventually wore out the pockets in my pants, and had to go back inside to change into another pair so I could wear out the pockets on those too.

All the while, I was now eyeing the still smoldering fire pit going no, no, I didn't throw my keys in the damn fire!

Going back to look through the garbage in the back of the truck I suddenly felt bad, because there was Abby, still in the truck, laying down obviously bored, but still waiting to go.
It wasn't until much later I remembered I had a spare in one of those magnetic cases up under the frame, but I was still too busy and intent in finding the bastards before dark and some pack rat or something runs off with them never to be seen again.

I walk over to the fire pit now believing there might possibly be a snowball's chance in hell, grab the hoe, and stir the smoldering ashes around fully knowing they won't be there.
It was also at the same time I cursed the wafting smoke that would quit following me around reminding me of why I abhor plastic.

Back inside I sit down at my desk mentally exasperated.
The thought crosses my mind to ask Siri what she thinks about the whole fucking thing, but I decide against it knowing she'll have no more to offer than the dog did.

An hour later I relent, walk out to the tractor and fire it up.
I park it at the pit and begin shoveling the ashes from the pit into the bucket.
It's still smoldering with the reeking stench of burnt plastic while I inspect each shovel full as I slowly pour them from my shovel.
Nothing, and now It's getting dark and I need a shower, because I smell like burning oil jugs, walmart bags, and styrofoam.

The level of disheartenment is large.
That ring holds every key to everything.
Every door lock, padlock and vehicle has a key on that ring.
There's even one for both of my safes.
Some of these keys there are no copies of.

Needless to say, I wasn't going to get much sleep that night, and got up once or twice to go out with the flashlight, just to have a peek under the hood of my truck just in case I had for some reason opened it, threw the keys in the engine compartment and slammed the hood shut.
Abby followed me out once, wondering if we were still going somewhere.

The next morning I got up, ate my oatmeal and couldn't wait to get back after the hunt.
I almost felt like a kid on Christmas morning, except the kid didn't know his stocking would only contain a new toothbrush and some socks.

I once again checked everywhere I had checked the day before knowing I hadn't left a stone unturned.
The smell of yesterday's fire lingered in the air lofting from the bucket of my tractor, and was about to make me puke.

I decided to sift through the ashes once more in order to convince myself the keys weren't there, so I wouldn't have to go back to the dump later and dig through it another time just in case I had missed them the previous three or four.

I dug in and turned over the first shovelful.
And there, sitting in the putrid remains, scorched, black, smelly, and smothered in an encrusted wad of melted burned up keyfobs, sat the answer to what the fuck did stupid do with his keys?

Son of bitch, I threw them in the fire.

Fuck. me.
 

XeVfTEUtaAqJHTqq

Master of Distraction
Staff member
SUPER Site Supporter
That sucks. Especially when you only get two fobs for most of these newer vehicles and getting a new fob isn't exactly cheap or easy to do.

I once "lost" the keys to my tractor for a few months. I ended up just popping the lock cylinder out and using a stubby screwdriver as a key. Turned out the keys were in the pocket of a fleece I had been wearing ... the weather got good so I stopped wearing the fleece and it went to the bottom of the stack of work clothes. Still not as bad as burning the fob, you have my sympathies.
 

Bannedjoe

Well-known member
That sucks. Especially when you only get two fobs for most of these newer vehicles and getting a new fob isn't exactly cheap or easy to do.

I once "lost" the keys to my tractor for a few months. I ended up just popping the lock cylinder out and using a stubby screwdriver as a key. Turned out the keys were in the pocket of a fleece I had been wearing ... the weather got good so I stopped wearing the fleece and it went to the bottom of the stack of work clothes. Still not as bad as burning the fob, you have my sympathies.
Fortunately, the fob that was most important is on an older truck that has the ability to program an inexpensive replacement.
The worst part is that it woke me up to the fact that I really should get copies made of the whole set.
 

mla2ofus

Well-known member
GOLD Site Supporter
Also keep the keys in your pocket until ready to enter the truck. Or do as I do and keep the keyring on a caribiner hooked on a belt loop.
 

FrancSevin

Proudly Deplorable
GOLD Site Supporter
Joe, Your stories are getting better and better. Hilarious stuff written well. Sadly for you,,,; not fiction :yum: :(
 
You going through a lot last March. I hope that everything is way better now. Remember that it's just a bad day but never a bad life.
 
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