Why I can't remember where I left my keys

Nate and I were out at dinner (Farren's - yes, he had The Russell) and ended up talking about typing, and the fact that Nate types with the weirdest 3-to-5-fingers-at-any-one-given-time method. How he ever typed his whole thesis in this manner, I'll never know. In fact, he types kind of like you'd expect a three-toed sloth to type. Only slower.
Funny thing is, I learned to type in high school and still remember one of the sentences in our typing text book: "Cy was the right man to blame for the big fight in the penalty box." Really. I'm not making this up. I ACTUALLY remember one of the sentences from a typing class from the early 1990s.

Which leads me to the point about why I can't remember where I left my keys. Because most of the space in my brain is being taken up with completely useless information like "Cy was the right man to blame for the big fight in the penalty box." I also remember the phone number to the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy. I was in Florence on vacation 7 years ago and stopped at an internet cafe to look up the phone number, so I could call and get tickets to the gallery. 055 294 883. So all this useless stuff is in my head, crowding out really important information like the 2nd law of thermodynamics, how to change a car tire, and where my keys are.