This morning I really did not want to get up. And when I say I really didn't want to get up, I mean that I repeatedly pushed the snooze button for the alarms on both my clock and my phone until the alarm on my phone stopped displaying a snooze option.

I rolled out of bed, blinked blearily, and started looking for clothes. My cat was curled up asleep on my bed so I poked at her. "If I have to wake up, you have to wake up," I snapped waspishly. It was childish and mean, but Stella just blinked her big eyes at me, stretched luxuriously, then curled up into a furry ball and went back to sleep.

I went through the rest of my morning ritual in a daze, mostly thinking about the fact that I have a four day weekend coming up and I would be able to sleep in for all four of those days. Aside from the yearning for my bed, the morning was going fairly smoothly until I was ready to walk out the door and couldn't find my keys.

I don't lose my keys. I just don't. There are three places I put them when I walk in the door; my dining room table, a basket on top of my tower speaker, or the front pocket in my battered old leather jacket. They were in none of these places. I checked the kitchen (actually clean for once), the mess on my dining room table, the living room, the computer room where I had spent most of the evening playing World of Warcraft, my bedroom, even the bathroom. They were nowhere. Mystification quickly turned into panic when I realized I was running late.

"Kitty, where are my KEYS?!" I shrieked.

Stella, of course, refused to get up and help me find them. Which in retrospect was probably in retaliation for my behavior towards her earlier.

I finally dug my spare car key out of a jar filled with pens, spare change, gum, inch long plastic ninjas, and an earring, tromped out to my car, scraped the ice off my windshield with a seldom used credit card, and went to work ten minutes late.

I found my keys three hours later in my purse.

It's just one of those days.