Woman here, and I carry one of these, so it’s even more streamlined than your system 
Methinks you were were really looking forward to that holiday.
At Burning Man, locking your keys in your vehicle is a royal pain in the ass. If you can’t find a neighbor with a Slim Jim, the nearest locksmith is a 90-mile drive away – once you can call them (no cell service). The Suburban I take there has power locks but for some reason (possibly age) throwing the lock with a key does not activate it. Therefore I have developed the habit of standing in the open door and chunking the lock switch while looking at the keys in my other hand. Then, still looking at the keys, I slam the door shut and finally, put the keys in my pocket.
This happened to me last winter. I came home from walking the dogs one morning (drove to the trail). When I got out of the car my hands were full - keys, collars, my hat, etc. and I had picked up a used Kleenex that was on the passenger’s seat. As I walked past the garbage can that’s in the garage I dropped the kleenex in there. We have a key holder/hook thing on our wall next to the door in the kitchen. I ALWAYS automatically hang up my keys as I walk in - just habit. So the next morning my husband went to start my car for me (to warm it up). I was in the basement donning my boots, etc. and he yells down to me “where are your keys?” I reply, “Aren’t they hanging up?” Of course, the answer is no. So I look in my jacket pocket, not there. I look everywhere - under the bench in the entryway, the garage floor, under my car, my other jackets - in the meantime he’s started my car with my other set of keys. The set that’s missing is only a car key and a house key. I get home from my walk and my husband is still looking and now is quite upset. (He’s an extreme door locker). He tells me that now we have to get a new door lock, blah, blah blah. I said, “first of all, the keys don’t have our address on them, secondly the key has to be somewhere in the house because I got home with the car!!” He was still upset with the whole situation when he left for work. I had the day off. So I try to retrace my steps and remember that I dropped the Kleenex in the garbage can and so maybe my keys too. So I look through that garbage…nothing. It is one of the coldest days of the winter and I’m outside rummaging thru trash. Then I wonder maybe it somehow got in the kitchen garbage. Of course, that’s been taken out to the big garbage can (the one that the garbage company empties). Out I go to pull out those bags and sort through the gross, wet, slimy food type trash. There were 3 of those bags! NOTHING. All day long I’m trying to think of where the keys could have gone. I once again searched the house, the garage floor, under shelving units in the garage, all of my jackets, snow pants, under things…NOTHING. I went through all of those garbage bags again. I wore rubber gloves and my hands were frozen like ice cubes. Still nothing. When my husband came home from work, I was outside for the THIRD time sorting through the garbage bags. I was taking out one item at a time and transferring it into a fresh bag. In my mind, the garbage was the only place the keys could be. My husband says something to the effect of having to re-key the house because surely my keys are in the hands of a ne’er do-well! He then stomps into the house. As I’m crouched out on the patio, my hands so cold that I could barely move my fingers, sorting through disgusting garbage, my husband suddenly opens the house door, his arm shoots out with my keys dangling from his fingers. He shouts out, “I found them”. And as fast as he appeared, he disappeared! I ran into the house and he was nowhere to be seen. I called out to him and he answers me from the bedroom at the far end of the house. I asked, “where did you find them?!?” He said, (and I’m not kidding) “they were in MY jacket pocket”!!! :eek: I was dumbfounded because there was no scenario that I could think of where I would put MY keys in HIS jacket pocket. I asked how could they be in there. He sheepishly answers, “When I went to start my car, I grabbed your keys by accident and instead of hanging them up, I put them in my pocket”. UGH! Let’s just say there was a lot of apologizing that evening!
Yeah - my wife has the same sort of thing. She doesn’t attach her keys to it, tho. I imagine she doesn’t want that thing hanging from the car ignition.
But you say you “carry” it. Where does it go when you are driving? If you are carrying a bag? When you sit down at a restaurant or wherever else you are going? Or if you are trying on clothes in a dressing room?
I KNOW I can tend to misplace things, so I am rigid about where I will allow myself to place critical things like my wallet and keys. If they are not in my pockets or one of the other designated spots, I’m conscious of not letting it out of my hand.
My wife, not so much. I doubt she’ll ever change, but I’m sincerely curious how other women handle this.
I do use the key part, so it hangs from the ignition when I’m driving. I have maybe ten or so cards in it so it’s not crazy heavy. It gets stuffed in my front pants pocket when I am doing other things. (I guess I meant I “carry” it on my person 
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My father is a compulsive locker-upper (he locks the car when running into the post office in our tiny quiet town!) and has twice locked his car with the key inside (it’s loose from his key case because it’s too big to fit) – since then he developed a system of saying “key in hand” before closing the door.
Pretty sure my wife has had the VB ones in the past. Lately she had a Coach one. She recently replaced it as the strap had worn. Guess what? The “new and improved” version was just slightly smaller, so that her cards did not fit in the slot. They could be jammed in, but then could not be slid out. Crazy shit - a change that defeated the sole function! So she returned the new one, and fashioned a new strap for the old one.
Dooney and Bourke always makes a point to mention the key keeper in their bags, a built-in strap which I guess you snap their key fob to. I wonder how many people ever use that?!
Here’s something I always wondered - if you have a pet door large enough for a human to get through, what’s the logic behind locking the door? That seems a bit like locking the doors on a convertible with the top down.