Matt and I decided to try and fix the trunk door on the van, which was not unlatching. This involves removing the entire back panel on the inside. Once we got it fixed, we took a break. I mean, it's kind of tiring taking off and entire back panel, when you have to keep saying "No Matt, just let me do it".
I came in before he did, he had the keys and wanted to mess some more. I was cold and the kids needed to take a nap after their lunch (Chloe does quiet time with a book). While I was doing this, he came in, with the keys, and went to the bathroom, put up the milk, eggs, and eggnog, and then set on the couch.
After a while, we decided to put the van back together again, so I went to grab the keys from where he "put them". They were not there. He rolled his eyes and said that of course they were, I just wasn't looking. He comes over, they are not there. He retraces his footsteps.
I tell him to check the couch while I check the fridge, the girls bathroom, and the bedroom.
He checks under the couch, behind the tv, and in the cushions while I head outside to scour the van.
At this point we are both getting angry. He goes through the trash in the kitchen and both bathrooms, while I go through all the dirty clothes.
We sit down to eat lunch before starting to look again, but we still can't find them, and we go out to put the van together, I mean, at least we still have the spare set until we find them. We just won't be able to use the remote access.
After we put everything back together, and I am getting the house ready for us to leave to go get our Christmas Tree, something tells me to check the couch cushions one more time, as I hadn't done it myself.
Oh My God. Keys.
Under the first damn cushion I lift.