This morning, no idea of where the keys are, and I was frantically searching for them while hubby was trying to settle in and get ready to sleep. Not a good combo. I never did find them and the solution to that isn't making him happy at all.
I'm taking next week off as a "hang around the City and take care of shit" week. Obviously I need to make a new pair of back-up keys as I can't find those either.
In the immortal words of Katherine Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story, I am such an unholy mess of a girl.