NO way.

My house is currently a circus filled with an entourage of Sylvia's kindred from all over Spain for her wedding tomorrow, and while it's way more than slightly overwhelming... I LOVE it.

I don't know if it's the quantity of people or just the murderous inferno that Sevilla has been surreptitiously mutating into over the past few days (they have to invent a new word just to encapsulate the heat here in Sevilla because existing ones just don't cut it)... but I think I'm going CRAZY. No seriously.

So yesterday was a SUPER fantastical day referring to Spain's WIN in the EuroCup semi-finals to bring them to the finals against Germany on Sunday night. The game, of course, was incredible. We about 15 -20 girls stuffed in my piso, half of which were doing wedding "manis and pedis" at the kitchen table. I, however, was glued to the television set... half for my enjoyment of a REALLY good fútbol game and half for my shameless appreciation of the perfect male specimens that are Fernando Torres, Sergio Ramos, David Villa, and Iker Castillas. Mmmmmmm.

The game ended with Spain shutting out Russia 3-0 (yuhu!) and huge celebrations out in the streets complete with Spanish flags and car honking.

At this point... I went downstairs to meet up with some friends to"tomar algo" (aka grab a drink) at the bar under my house. And being the wonderfully responsible girl that I am, I offered to bring the trash and recycling down to the street. I grabbed my keys, my phone, a two euro coin, and three bags of nastiness.

I ran downstairs, pased my friends waiting below, and proceeded to throw out said bags in three different GI-normous trash/recycling bins on the street which happen to be located RIGHT in front of a happen' bar bursting with celebratory fútbol aficionados. I then went back to properly greet my friends with dos besos and I realized that my keys were no longer on my person.

Yes, I had in fact thrown away my keys.

Thrown them into the depths of the abominable filth that is the communal trash deposit for my block.

And what was worse... I didn't know which one of the three.

Chaos unfolds.

I run back to the bins to look for them.
In plain view of the hoards of people.
I start to attract attention.
Search #1 (through the depths of abominable filth of communal trash deposits), no success.

At my friends' suggestion, I run up to my piso just to make sure I hadn't left them upstairs. My sweet (unfortunately soon to be former) roommates both came down with me to continue the search.

Now we are three girls searching through trash in front of hoards of people dressed like Spanish flags.
People begin to ask me and my friends what we are doing and then offer their two cents.
"Why don't you just climb in?"
"Forget it, they're gone now."
"What if you got a giant magnet?"

Search #2 (through the depths of abominable filth of communal trash deposits), no success.

Side note: Sylvia's fabulous sister hung posters of the bride throughout our neighborhood that read (in Spanish) "The most beautiful girl in the neighborhood is getting married. Boys, how did you let her get away?"

There is a huge group of guys standing right in front of a pole donning one of said posters, and so while Sylvia is helping me look for my keys... I take the opportunity to draw their attention to the poster and that, in fact, the protagonist of the poster was right there in our midst.

They begin chanting (in Spanish) "Gettin' married! Gettin' married!"

At this point, I remember I have a mini-flashlight in my room and make another trip up.

Now, I'm looking through trash bins with a flashlight and conning my friends into helping me.
Search #3 (through the depths of abominable filth of communal trash deposits), no success.

Finally, I had to let it go and surrender to the fact that my keys were lost and gone forever in the depths of abominable filth of communal trash deposits.

We carry on with our evening.

So I'm stubborn and maybe a little obsessive. Right before going to bed, I pray. I tell the Lord that I know it's silly, but I need a little miracle, I need to find my keys. I tell Him I'm gonna get up a 5am to look for them (when there's no one in the street and to beat out the trash men.) And I write that all down in my journal as "proof" that the prayer was prayed for when it would be answered. I set my alarm.

I wake up at 5am this morning and run down to the street to find a heap of new trash from the happenin' bar cast out on top of the waste I had originally contributed to the depths of abominable filth of the communal trash deposit.

I open a second bin and begin transferring rubbish from the desired bin.
Then I uncover a buried box and hear a little rattle.

You've got to be kidding me.
NO way.

Prayer answered.
I've got my keys.
Rock my face off.