The Key Search

As soon as my bangs begin to impede my vision, I know it's time for a haircut. Saturday I ventured out to the neighborhood Great Clips for a trim. Things went well. Loretta was my stylist and we chatted about the changes the weather had made on our holiday plans. I paid, donned my hat and coat, and reached in my pocket for my keys. Not there. Not anywhere. Not in any pocket nor in the car nor under the car. Several customers joined in the search, both in the shop and the icy parking lot. When I removed my knit hat to call for help on my cell, I heard a faint jingle. "Are those your keys?" a customer asked, pointing to the floor. Yep. There they were. They'd caught on the yarn inside my hat and hid out there while I searched for them.

How did those keys get in my hat? I'm blaming it on the subzero weather.