Useless Keys

I've been parking my car in front of my house. As much as I love the driveway, it's a pain to have to switch places with Brian and neither of us like to park on the side of the driveway (me because it always gets muddy over there and I'm scared I'll hit the neighbor's fence--I am SUCH a horrible parker, and Brian because our driveway is starting to crack and he doesn’t want to park half on/half-off). Brian always has tools to load and unload so it just makes more sense for me to be the one to park out front.

Anyway, parking out front means I have to use my house key to get into the house instead of my handy-dandy garage door opener (which I love and miss using). Doesn’t sound like a big deal except that I have 2 identical keys on my key ring. Originally, the house key had an “H” written on it in black sharpie, but most of it has faded except for a tiny corner.

You’d think I would do something about those identical keys so I wouldn’t have to fumble every time I come home, but I haven’t. In fact, as I started looking at my key ring this morning, I realized that I only use 3 keys on there—my car key, my house key and my mail key. In fact, I’m not sure what any of the other keys go to—including the one that’s identical to my house key.

But I’m scared to throw any of them away. What if I all-of-a-sudden need them? You can’t get on the show “Hoarders” by keeping extra keys, can you?

Not to over-spiritualize a key ring, but the irony of it hit me this morning and I realized I carry around a lot of “useless” things. The comment someone made about my ears sticking out in elementary school still makes me not ever want to wear my hair up or in a hat. The fear that I’m dull, and that nobody will want to be my friend when they realize I’m not witty, hangs with me constantly. And the thought that I’m a bad mom and wife and employee because of a standard I think I need to meet goes with me everywhere—just like those useless keys.

The keys aren’t heavy and most of the time I don’t even notice them. Until I’m in a hurry to get in my house and go to the bathroom—that’s when the inconvenience of sorting through them all reminds me they are there and that I should do something about them.

But I haven’t yet.

Do you have any old keys hanging around? What are you afraid to get rid of, but know you should?