You are such a nice man.
I’m sorry I forget things and leave them behind.
Thank you for bringing me keys and power chords, wallets, and phones… things that give me legal tender to just get around town, and work and shop and drive and visit.
Thank you for the repeated acceptance–both willing and grudging, it doesn’t matter–of this strange zookeeper role I somehow seem to push you into, where I am this consistently incorrigibly forgetful beast, running amok and charging about town and country with little to no regard for the all these diverse and easily mis-placeable items that have become required accessories to just plain getting along in life.
Thank you for interrupting your breakfast, your workday, your work-out, packing up the child and your pockets full of whatever necessary thing I’ve forgotten this time and driving across town to wherever I’m temporarily stranded.
I’m sorry. Again.
The good news is, I found the broken keychain in the backseat.