That’s why I always flip my keys off and call them a motherfucker when I put them down somewhere.

Ok, not really. But the real story is negative enough that it probably qualifies. I locked myself out of my college apartment and had to wake the building manager up to get a spare key. She was super pissed and I really didn’t want to go back there to drop the key off. Later that morning I ran into her husband in my statics class and just handed him the key. “Hey, you’re already going back there so you should just take it now.”

He gave me the dirtiest look and a couple days later I saw him moving some boxes out of the apartment. I didn’t really process it until two weeks later, when I was out mountain biking with my Russian buddy and caught husband and another girl making out on the trail.

Yeah. Apparently she’d caught him cheating and I accidentally made him go back to her apartment and probably get screamed at more. I mean he deserved it, but I felt so awkward and weird about the while situation. So yeah, that was emotionally charged enough that I force myself to always know where my keys are.