Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Not Yet

I've been cleaning up my desk, and yesterday I came across a set of keys I don't travel with. Old house keys, old car keys I can't get rid of, and the phillips-head key to my dad's lock box.

"What's in it," Alexis asked.

Oh, you know, birth certificates, the deed to the house, important stuff like that.

"Do we have a deed?"

...Well, we *should*.

So we dragged out the huge folder I astutely called "House" from the file cabinet under my desk. It has everything in it - all our mortgage payments, all the receipts from work we've had done, estimates for other work we wish we could get done. Also, lots of paint swatches and several folders on installing toilets and other bathroom appliances.

But. No. Deed.

"What does it look like? Is it going to be labeled?"

Look, here's something saying we have insurance on the title. Isn't a title for a car?

Finally, we near the end of the folder, and tucked in the back is our last hope for proof of our responsibility - a folded piece of yellow paper. We unfold it and stare in disbelief at the note I left Alexis years ago: