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"It was one of those days Monday where I was feeling far from sexy. While on one hand my writing career really felt alive (thanks to an animation pitch that has generated quite a bit of interest) my hair and my clothes were about as dead as I was going to be if I couldn&amp;#039;t get my daughter to school on time. You see, it was the big Stick Bug presentation, but Mama couldn&amp;#039;t find the keys to the car to save her life. &amp;quot;Mommy, I wrote in the journal and everrrrrrythiiiiiiinnnngggggggg,&amp;quot; she whined as I attempted to find those suckers. &amp;quot;Rex! Rex! Please be a second set of eyes for me, will ya?&amp;quot; I squealed, frantically searching the office... the kitchen... the bedroom.... Hell, I even checked the fridge near the Diet Coke and under the Mothers Animal cookies I swore I wouldn&amp;#039;t touch since Sunday&amp;#039;s bbq but of course ate by the fistfuls anyway. No such luck. &amp;quot;Where did you leave them last?&amp;quot; Rex asked before ducking his 6&amp;#039;3 frame under my desk. I wanted to scream, &amp;quot;If I knew that I wouldn&amp;#039;t be asking for help, Dorkface!&amp;quot; But of course he was being helpful. And he&amp;#039;s the most handsome man I know - far from dorky. Besides, it&amp;#039;s not his fault that practical, steady eddy, never-a-hair-out-of-place Rex ended up with mad-scramble/do too much/over-extend herself but if she doesn&amp;#039;t pack on the activities she&amp;#039;d die of housewife boredom/moi. &amp;quot;I can&amp;#039;t believe this!&amp;quot; I shrieked, more to myself than anyone else. I had been so organized - or so I thought! I had prepped both sets of lunches, both back packs, Stink&amp;#039;s homework folder, and all stick bug related items at the door the day before. My tv pitches were safely stowed in my binder along with a charged cell phone and directions to the production house. Why today? Why now? In a desperate attempt to keep from spinning more than I already had, I took a deep breath. I raised my hands above my head in a half prayer/half yoga namaste position. I reached up, exhaled out, and rested my hands on my chest. They landed on something hard. Like a magician at a nude review, I pulled out a long pink ribbon. But instead of a scarf, it was none other than my car keys attached to a Dora the Explorer lanyard. Because where else, hidden comfortably in my luminous cha-chas, would a pair of car keys go? Then my right breast started ringing. &amp;quot;Ah, that&amp;#039;s where the cell phone went,&amp;quot; I muttered to myself before hitting mute. Laughing, Rex patted my butt on his way out the door, &amp;quot;That must be where you left your brain this morning!&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d kill him, if he weren&amp;#039;t right. Any other women out there store things in your cleavage? (And no... I DO NOT want to know what you store in your butt. It&amp;#039;s only Wednesday and I haven&amp;#039;t eaten much.) "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2929/keeping-abreast-of-my-keys/?src=shelter_footer>