If the New Year's Eve party and the retelling of it the next day are any indication of what the rest of the year is going to be like, I'll probably die laughing before it's over.  Did you ever laugh so hard that your eyelids turned inside out?  I'd tell you about it but one of my friends said, "Don't write about our antics last night.  People will be jealous."
So I won't.  I'll write about something that snot funny.  You won't be jealous when I tell you about this irritating fellow on the other end of the phone last week.  He most definitely was not funny, especially when he said to me, "Hey, lady!  You're the one who locked her keys in the car.  You don't have to take it out on me!"
I'll tell you the whole story from the beginning, dear kind and considerate people, and let you decide whether or not he had it coming.
The beginning.  I pulled into my garage after a full morning of power shopping for last minute Christmas gifts.  Trying to be efficient by carrying everything into the house in a single trip, I grabbed and pulled and twisted until I had all the handles and straps of all the bags and packages wound around my fingers and shoulders and arms.  Then I carefully squeezed out of the car, stood up as straight as possible, nudged the car door shut with the back of me, and waddled into the house.
When I got up to the kitchen I realized I had left my mail on the front seat, so dropped the packages carefully, and skipped down the steps to the garage to retrieve it.  Drat the luck.  Horror of horrors.  My car is home and I'm home and we still both have so many places to go in this busy season, but we're stuck.  One of the shopping bags must have bumped the automatic door lock.  That's what I get for efficiency.  I knew before I started looking that I wouldn't find a second key, but I looked anyway, everywhere, because it seemed the right thing to do.
The middle:  My solution to certain problems in life revolves around a man, whether it's catching mice in my office, putting in windshield washer fluid, or unlocking cars.  So I called Allan who told me where to find the "VIN number," and to call the dealer with that information so a key could be made, and he'd pick it up for me on the way home from work.
Oofda.  Saved again.  Or so I thought. 
An employee at the dealership passed the buck and gave me a 1-800 number for Lost Keys.  We've all learned by now that the people on the other end of such numbers can be residing in Asia Minor or Ursa Major, but I called the 1-800 number as directed. 
After a half hour of playing the phone menu game, I finally got a live human voice that instructed me to call my dealership.  The live human voice did not care that an employee at the dealership had already tried to get rid of me and my predicament.
So I called the place again, and the employee said, "Yes, I guess I could make a key for you, but there are no guarantees the key will work because I don't know if I should make one with a black head or a gray head."
"Make one of each," says I, "and then both bases will be covered.  My husband will be there in a little while."
"It'd be better to call Roadside Assistance," says he.  "They can be at your place in less than an hour."
"But I'm not at the roadside, I'm at home, and why don't you just make two keys for me?" says I.  "If neither one works, I can always call Roadside Assistance.  I'm willing to take the chance.  How much can it cost to make a key, anyway?  I'll pay for it."
"They're $8 each, Maam," says he.  "But you'd have to bring your car here so I can check the alarm sytem."
"Bring the car in?" says I in disbelief.  "I can't get it started.  Remember?  The key is locked inside."
"You could have it towed, Maam," says he.  "Or just call this 1-800 number for Roadside Assistance.  It's covered in your lease."
By now there was fire in my ire.  "You mean to tell me that you're willing to have somebody spend that kind of time and money when all I'm asking for is a key?"  I was so mad that I felt my eyelids turning inside out.
"Hey, Lady, you're the one who locked your keys in the car.  You don't have to take it out on me."
The end.  Roadside Assistance came to my house and unlocked my car.  I asked the young man how much he gets paid for the call.  He said he'll get $138.
The next day I went to C.H. Carpenter in Victoria and had them make three car keys for me.  Three minutes.  Three dollars.  Three keys.  They all work.
Did I have just cause for raising my voice to the employee?  Was I madder at him or at myself?  You can have your opinion; I'll have mine.  In any case, I resolve in the New Year to keep many keys available for unlocking my doors -- the doors to my car, my home, and my heart.  As for the doors to my temper, sometimes they unlock all by themselves.     --Sue