Lost my car keys again. Coulda swore they were on the countertop. "B" the fattest cat in the world (and proud of it) lies basking in the angst without a care in the world, atop the counter. He leans over the edge of the Italian marble with a disgusted look, realizing I'm not going to feed him for the fourth time since 6:00am.
I scour the house in search of the damn keys, like a tv detective looking for clues from a murder. Throw comforter and sheet corners out of their tuck. Peer under beds, rugs, glance atop any flat surface, underneath purses, bags, papers, jacket pockets, couch cushions, in the freezer, and behind shower curtains. I even lift the washer lid, open cupboards, search the most ludacris places for keys.
No sign of the car keys nor house keys attached to the same ring.
I've got to leave immediately so I utilize the spare key in the glove box. Drive off without a glance back at "B" who hasn't moved an inch. I'm disgusted with the situation, my own dementia mind, exasperated, and pissed-off.
Decide, if there is a God, she'd help me locate the keys upon my return. Miracles DO happen all the time on tv, in books, magazines, online, why not in my life? "The keys will show up, and one of the critters will help me find them," I declare out loud. "They'd better!!"
Hours later, I enter the house. The keys are sitting on the counter, right where I left them, and in the exact spot "B" was lounging. He was lying on them, immune to the stabbing edges, sharp key corners, and my indignant search party.
See, miracles do happen, right in the privacy of my own home.
When was the last time you were touched by an Angel?