For all intents and purposes I was on house arrest today. I neither laundered money nor bred pitbulls for dog fighting. My crime? I lost my keys. Inside my house. Who does that? You should see my place -- it's not even that messy. I spent the entire day looking for them which sucked because I had VERY important stuff to do, like find a guitar stand. Plus I didn't have coffee. So, after I washed and folded five loads of laundry, loaded and unloaded the dishwasher, searched for flights to London to meet Zac, read cookbooks (you know how bored you have to be to read cookbooks?), and started writing this blog, I ran out of things to do and decided to organize underneath my bathroom sink. Which is where I found my keys. Which is, it turns out, where I dropped them at 3 a.m. Awesome.
I'm beginning to feel like I have a problem. Or problems.