This Week in Housekeeping
The official political and pop culture summary for the week of February 14-21, 2025
Call it astrology or maybe universal vibes, but this week really handed it to me. On Tuesday, I decided to visit a beach entrance I had not been to in a long time. I drove the dented pickup truck onto the sand and sat on the tailgate for sunset. The sand was cold, but the sky was pink and blue and purple and yellow so I focused on the feeling above my freezing feet. It was cold but I couldn’t wait any longer to make this visit, the beach and I had unfinished business. I had things to discuss with the sky , hoping the ocean would explain everything. There have been evenings when I scream into the midnight ocean in exchange for its ever-deepening presence, a promise things are all going according to plan. Tonight was not like that. Tonight, the ocean said “I’m just water. And this is just sand. And that is just a sky, you crazy, ranting, woman.”
I left the beach and I went to the gas station. I took the truck out of four-wheel-drive and back to… whatever the other gear is. I accidentally parked in the diesel spot, then pushed up a few feet more for unleaded fuel. I filled up my tank using Apple Pay, never leaving the 3 foot radius of my vehicle. This was the same gas station I had lost my debit card last summer.
When I jumped back in the truck, my key was nowhere to be found. I scrambled. I tore up the floor mats, shook my cavernous purse upside down, I slammed around cup holders that didn’t make sense. The sun was gone, and the lighting at the gas station was dismal. I started to panic. I wondered if maybe someone had opened the other side of the truck while I was pumping gas, stole my key, and wanted me vulnerable and confused so they could murder me. This must be my psych ward origin story.
A few minutes later, a utility van pulled up behind me. The side of the van said something about pool cleaning, so I asked the young man if he had a heavy duty flashlight. As I went inside to ask the gas station clerk if they could roll back the security tapes for my suspected soon-to-be-murderer, the young man had found an incredibly bulky and perfect flashlight in the back of his van.
Finally, with the help of the flashlight and the miracle of brain cells, I found my truck key. The one single key as attached to a pink-and-gold beaded necklace that was too ugly to wear as jewelry but good enough to be a key lanyard. My key, simply laying there, on the floor of the passenger seat. My key wasn’t really hiding. The key was just there. The whole time, just there.
This week, I’m questioning everything.
