Forgot My Keys Again, Stupid!

Oh my, here I am in my 50s, still playing this silly little game with myself as Mommy. This morning, I was running late again because I forgot my keys on the kitchen counter for the third time this week. It’s not exactly kink or anything exciting to confess, but it feels like a lapse in discipline, something we’ve agreed upon, at least within our dynamic. I had told myself that I’d place them by the door as soon as I got home from my morning walk with the dog, but of course, that’s when life happens and the keys end up somewhere entirely different. So there I was, rushing around in circles trying to find them while still in my nightgown (yes, it’s a bit silly now, isn’t it?), grumbling to myself about how such an adult thing as being organized is apparently beyond me. Mommy would certainly give herself a stern talking-to over this sort of forgetfulness. I know better than to blame myself or anyone else for these little slip-ups; instead, I’ll just have to keep trying and maybe even set up some reminder notes around the house, like an adult should.