Which is why when I saw this on Apple.com, I knew it had to be DH's Christmas present.
It's an alarm that links with his iPhone or iPad, that can help him locate something. And in this case, that something is his keys.
When the kids were little and learning to talk, I'd go through the animal noises like this:
Me: What does a cow say?
Me: What does a kitty say?
Me: What does Daddy say?
Kid: Where are my keys!?
I only wish I was kidding.
This was Christmas morning at our house:
DH had the flu, so if you can't hear what he's saying, it's loosely translated as him reading the gift tag on said phone. "To: [DH], From: Lady Gaga." And Larry Potter demonstrates why it's from Lady Gaga.
We sing this song a lot around here. Well, at least this part.
I thought for sure this would be the present to end all presents. I mean, this is the man that lives for a new app on his phone. This is the guy that left his phone on top of his car while getting Which Wich in Madison, finding it through the "Find my iPhone" app, and locating it with precise accuracy on the on-ramp of Highway 12. (He had a friend go get it for him. And it still worked.)
And yet, still it sits in it's original packaging, nearly 7 weeks after Christmas.
In the past 72 hours, DH has had missing his wallet, his debit card, and his car keys. The wallet was missing since I went to Mexico a month ago with J-Dub and Crunchy Granola. But, as he told me this when I came back, the bright side was his debit card wasn't lost because he didn't put it back in his wallet when he should have! ::sigh::
The debit card went missing two weeks later.
At this point, I'm considering signing up DH for either a reality show or a case study.
Friday night, we found the wallet. Hoover gave it DH. It is still unclear where he found it.
Sunday afternoon at 1 p.m., DH found his debit card. It was under a towel in the laundry room.
I got a call at work at 4 yesterday. A panicked DH said he can't find his car keys. He just had them, he said. He picked up the boys from their music lessons, closed the garage door, and locked the car with his keys. Then, he shoveled the driveway. Shortly afterwards, he discovered his keys missing.
We searched all night. He was ready to pull the couch apart and rip down the plaster to the studs. I calmly pointed out that when he loses stuff, it's usually out in the open, and please for the Love of God, Do Not Tear This House Apart.
That last part was emphasized.
And, I got him to actually pick up things, instead of just move a pile and freak out that he couldn't find something. Seriously, I have found his keys under a tie, next to the stove, in random pockets. He freaks out the same every time.
Well, I hyper-cleaned to look for them. Nothing. I went outside (at 10 p.m., in pajamas) to look for them. Nothing. This morning, I cleaned out the coat room, and promised the kids whomever found the keys would get $20. (LP scarfed his breakfast down and went outside to look.) Still nothing.
I drove DH to work today. Someone is driving him home.
Why doesn't he just use an extra set of keys?
I'm so glad you asked.
He had one extra set and somehow broke the key. I mean, black-plastic-ripped-off-if-he-tries-to-use-it-it-will-get-stuck-forever-in-the-ignition broken. Only DH.
And so, now we have a 2700 pound paperweight in our garage. That we're making payments on.
Last night, during the frantic search, DH took a break and was attempting to buy designer sunglasses online.
Oh hell no. I put a stop to that.
(I hate that this reads like I'm his mother. I'm not. But come on, ladies, if this was your husband, you'd do the same, yes?)
I wish this story had a happy ending. And it still might. But not yet, I'm afraid.
And the Hipkey? The very device I purchased so that this would never happen again?
In the front hall, mocking me.
Reality TV, here we come.