This is story that ends well, which is the only reason it is getting told.
To remind you — and me — that there are good people in this world, even when our news is filled with senseless and sickening school shootings. 74 since Sandy Hook, 74 too many.
One night this week, after I had already changed out of my business chic (read: sundress) and fancy heels (read: flip flops) into my flannel doughnut jammies, I heard my husband’s car alarm. Now, he has been having somewhat of a Walter White VS THE FLY kind of time dealing with this car alarm. It just goes off randomly, without any rhyme or reason, usually when he’s inconveniently nowhere near his car keys. So, I just laughed all Here we go again and went back to season 7 of Family Ties and worried about how my growing-out-my-bangs process is at a very Elyse Keaton stage right now.
But then the doorbell rang.
Our keys had been found, still attached to mailbox #2B. Children who remain nameless (for their own protection) had gone to get the mail from the communal neighborhood mailbox earlier in the day and in the flurry of excitement over flyers and bills, somehow returned home without my keys.
This random neighbor found them and used the car alarm to locate which house housed people who (are dumb enough to) leave their keys dangling willy nilly our of mailboxes. Turns out that the car alarm led the good samaritan to US.
Luckily, no one found it and used the car key(s) to steal one (or both) of our cars.
Luckily, no one found it and used the house key to, well, I don’t even want to think about it because I only finally convinced my children that the basement isn’t a place where murderers wait to get them.
Luckily, my neighbor is good, good people.
Luckily for the unsuspecting people behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru too.
Also, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be getting the mail from now on.