Sunday, August 4, 2013

Key To Happiness

WARNING: A budding exaggeration may flower.

It's been just over 40 days since the big day and already I am locked out. In an odd twist of marital strife and not to be outdone, because the girl is uber-competitive, she is also locked out.

Perhaps because this has nothing to do with us and everything to do with modern technology. I miss the days of keys. Good, old fashioned, cut metal, ringable keys. Gone by the wayside, replaced by unpredictable, finicky plastic. We may in fact hold the key to our happiness but most definitely do not have a workable, usable key to our stuff.

Nothing against the Inn. It's stood the weather of time, lasting longer than a nickel-plated brass key. Go figure. Imagine if the pilgrims had landed on the tip of Provincetown after grueling months at sea, hungry, wind burnt, laundry layered in the salt of the mer only to be locked out of America...the thin plastic rectangle they had been issued by the Queen granting them entry to the new land, beeping and flashing a red light: DENIED.

Okay, so our plight was not nearly that dramatic. We just couldn't get back into our room after a long, shaded, chowder filled day, escorting wealthy fundraisers to their champagne laden shower oases. Now that I see it in print...oh it's dramatic all right....just maybe doesn't match the photo above. At. All.

And considering our day ended with us being incredibly late to dinner...lending to us leaving for town AFTER the sideways rainstorm...making us wait for the town trolley skipping the long walk where we would have inevitably been soaked AND in turn seeing a wonderful rainbow giving a big gay hug to Ptown. Are you kidding me? Well, I guess it all happened as it should is all I'm saying.

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