The tale of the lost car keys
After driving a few friends out to score some smoke last night, I stashed my car keys somewhere. We ended up getting the weed, so we go to my study with my friends to smoke down a bit. Needless to say I was stoned out of my head. By the time we had finished the bag of herb. It was time for me to give my fellow smokers a ride home. I am totally obliterated, so of course I can't find my keys. After combing the house over and over for the keys my friends decide to walk home. They only live about three miles away, so it's not a horridly long walk for them. After they leave I begin to think of where my keys could possibly be.
It kept me up almost all night.
I had to work today, so I was quite worried that I may have to call in sick. This morning I once again decided to search for them. And guess fucking what. They were right on top of the refrigerator. The night before I had swore up and down that they were not even in the kitchen. But I was pretty damn stoned. I guess I just didn't see them.
Update on the crazy old lady at work:
It turns out that the money at cigarettes that came up missing were stolen by this woman. Now is that karma or what?