The Keys to Happiness: An Adventure

The man said, “I’m so depressed that falling down would feel like getting up.” Fortunately, I don’t feel that way. I feel bolstered, happy, content. I have joy in my life over simple things: running a vacuum when I thought I might never be able to again. I do want things, but not having them has not cut me low. I wish I had more time, money, money to take the time and pay for travel. But wishing and wanting are okay things unless they eat away at you. Wishing keeps you goal-oriented as long as the wishes are reasonably attainable. I can’t run for President because of an accident of birth, so wishing to live in the White House is not a reasonable goal. I might run, anyway, but with no expectations. Wishing to return to Holland is more reasonable, given enough time to accumulate enough money for the trip – hence my wishes listed above. Goals keep you going. They lift you up. They give you hope. They encourage you to get up every day. All these things are fine with me. Whatever time I have, I will do the best I can. There are moments. Tuesday was one. Di had a doctor’s appointment late morning and we were ready to leave in plenty of time, but as soon as I closed the front door I realized that I had left my keys inside. Di did not have hers, either. I went to the back of the house but the back doors were locked, as they should have been. We thought our son might have a spare, but when we tried to call him we discovered the cell phone was dead. I tried the credit card trick but immediately discovered I have no talent for breaking into houses. So we walked down the hill to our neighbor’s house. Fortunately, she was home. From there we got hold of Nik. He was sure he did not have a key, but would look, and would be right over. Meanwhile, with highly stressed intonation, Di called the doctor’s office to explain why we were not there. Fifteen minutes later, Nik arrived, keyless. It was decided that a new door knob was cheaper than a house call by a locksmith. So Nik took my aluminum bat to the lock. It took a while – I felt somewhat encouraged that the lock was so hard to bust – but it finally gave way and we got inside. We rescheduled the appointment. I then went to our local hardware store, Sliters, to get a new lock. When I got the lock home, I could not figure out how to remove the strike-plate attached to the main mechanism. Not wanting to break it, and not opening the instructions in case I had to return the item altogether, I packed up all the bits and went back to Sliters. By now the air was more blue than the sky. The people at Sliters helped me, between finally opening the instructions and using their muscle (if they broke it, I would not feel guilty, or nearly as stupid as I was feeling). Meanwhile, I had them make two spare keys. I returned and the new lock, with four keys, stands ready to guard against all evildoers. Nik now does have a spare, and I keep one in a logical spot. And our front door has a lovely, distressed, broken into ambiance. Now we want a new front door. I hope to get it soon, installed of course, with lots of spare keys.