Six little keys.
Ugh.
I pulled this out of my purse.
Six keys.
Six keys made for the back door and none work.
Last time I went back to the store, the girl didn’t even charge me.
I lock doors when I leave. It probably has something to do with my mother. Or when I was six, how a dear kitten escaped and never came back. I sobbed heartbroken for weeks. (more…)
