It seems that Jane and her husband’s latest project is called The Latchkey Project. The project is sort of a hybrid of jewelry, art, conversation piece, and probably other things I have not yet figured out.
You know, how back in the day, you’d pop in your Zork or Colossal Caverns floppy and type stuff like
GET YE FLASK or
PICK UP KEY and then spend the whole rest of the adventure trying the key in every lock you run across because they key wasn’t nailed down and if you can pick it up and put it in your inventory, then it is obviously going to be useful in a lock elsewhere in the game and therefore will be a necessary requirement to finish? Well, maybe some readers are young enough to have never experienced such adventures. Anyway, the Latchkey Project is sort of like that. Sort of. Only jewelry.
Fundamentally, when you order a kit, you get an antique key, a satin cord, and a number of handwritten notes. You are then free to wear the key as a necklace and try it in any lock you run across. The funny thing is that a week or two prior to learning of the Latchkey Project, I was thinking back to a particular aspect of my silly youthful days. In an effort to be more punk (or was it goth? or was it just to be an oddball?), I wore a chain and lock around my neck. I wanted to be cool and different (exactly like all the other cool and different people.) I told myself that one day, I would give the key to the love of my life and it would be like the key to my heart, &c. You know — typical teenage stuff. It all seems pretty silly and angsty-teenager in retrospect, and now that I have found the love of my life, neither key nor lock are anywhere to be found, and that is okay. Anyway, after having recently strolled down that particular lane of memories, it was kind of funny to run across the idea of putting the opposite — a key — around your neck. Likely, I will not actually wear it as a necklace. I already have a little metal tarot card pendant that I always wear and when also wearing the iPod Nano, I usually have my hands (or neck) full, trying to prevent the lovely and annoying metal-on-metal clank of them hitting one another. Most likely, it will go on my regular keychain or on the stretchy bungee-cord keychain built into my motorcycle jacket that I have never previously used.
Obviously, I ordered a key for myself; I also got one for Kim. Since we live in the land of Victorian houses and antique furniture, I figured our chances of successful lock-openage would be slightly higher than in many places throughout the rest of the country. The keys arrived yesterday and because it was raining pretty heavily, I decided to constrain my first day of adventuring to the house. There are several locks in the house that were likely candidates. First, I tried the back door.
The key was too small. Then, I tried my office door.
The key was too big. Then, I tried the bathroom and bedroom doors.
The size was just right. (This is starting to sound like a story with three bears and a little cat-burglar blonde, right?) Unfortunately, the key would not turn.
There was no chance of it fitting in either of the chests used as bedside tables. While I have lost the keys to those long ago, they are fortunately already unlocked. (And, as an aside, can be locked and unlocked with the aid of a paperclip.) I took a break, as I was weary from all of this adventuring, and allowed my monkey butler to hold the key for safe keeping.
Unfortunately, my simian servant was easily outsmarted and the cat ran off with the key. I am not sure what is more funny: that he grabbed the key and ran, or that he kept “tripping on his shoelaces” (stepping on the cord, causing the key to fall out of his mouth.)