On this fine Saturday morning, I have about a dozen errands to run, and I'm pretty much ready to go. I've had some coffee, showered, made a list and generally am prepared to conquer the world. But here I sit at 11:30, in my house. And do you know why? Because my keys are currently sitting inside my car, which is in the driveway, locked. Dan, who is at an all-day radio-controlled car race, has the other key in his pocket.

We set ourselves up for this last night, when we were trying to be smart. Dan, knowing that he would need to be sure to have all of his RC car related paraphrenalia in his real car (and believe me, there's a lot of paraphrenalia associated with this hobby) in time to leave for the race early this morning, decided to load it all up in his car last night. However, since that meant his car was now full of a lot of relatively expensive hobby equipment, we didn't want to leave it parked in the driveway. So we decided to put it in the garage before we went to attend a going away party for some friends from church who are moving in a few weeks. Thus, I got into my car, using my keys, and backed it out of the garage. Dan then parked his car in the garage, using his keys with my spare key attached to them, and came and joined me in my car.

After the party, Dan drove home using his set of keys, so I did what I always do with anything that I'm holding and don't need to use right at the moment, and dropped my keys on the floor of the car, where they stayed as we got out of the car, locked it (since it would be sitting out in the driveway all night and all) and went to bed, secure in the knowledge that we had outsmarted all manner of would-be car thieves.

Dan's bringing me his keys right now, taking a break from his races to come and rescue me from calling a locksmith yet again (this is not the first time this has happened to us, but that's a long story). And the only reason I'm telling this story is because as I was standing at the window a few moments ago, pondering what I should do, I glanced up and saw our two college degrees, which sit proudly on the top of a bookshelf in our office, and I felt like I should probably just mail mine back to my alma mater with a note reading "Thanks for the excellent education in literature and writing. Too bad you couldn't teach me any common sense."