Monday, March 1, 2010
This post has required a few days of emotional healing to be able to write. In the heat of the story I am about to tell you, Mark said, "Look at the bright side - you can put this on your blog", to which I very tearily and dramatically responded, "NO I CAN'T! This is not a fun story. No one wants to read about this. It is just too terrible and sad."
Now that reality is closer to my grasp, I've decided I may as well share, because, well, who can't relate to this? And this is a big step, because this story makes me sound like a total lunatic.
I run late. Pretty much every day. On the days I'm not running late, something inevitably goes wrong to make sure that I'm late. Last week was no different. It was Tuesday. A regular ole Tuesday, except that I was a little ahead of schedule, in a chipper mood, and proud of myself for being able to leave so early. Around 8:20ish I put the dogs up, and went in the living wrong to grab my purse and keys, set the alarm, and head out the door.
Except, I couldn't find my keys. No big deal, right? I mean, this happens once every few weeks, and usually takes just a few minutes to find the keys. So, like any other morning, I start looking for my keys. About five minutes in, I'm frustrated. Because those five minutes mean I'm not going to be so almost-on-time now. So, I do what I always do. I call Mark - since he's the keeper of my keys. Unfortunately, this time, he hasn't seen them. So I hang up and continue looking.
And I can't find them. Anywhere. I've looked in all the obvious places - the dresser, kitchen table, bench by the door, my purse, the ottoman, etc.
So I call Mark again. I tell him I still can't find them. So he's like "have you looked in your purse?" Really? Am I an idiot? "Yes, I have looked in my purse." I tell him I need him to think of some more creative places that perhaps I haven't looked so I can find them. He asked about the closet, the laundry hamper (?!), and a few more creative places. So I set off to look there.
At this point, I'm totally going to be super late. I'd say maybe 20 minutes have lapsed. I'm getting teary eyed, and really frustrated.
Where could the keys be? I came straight home, unlocked the front door, and started getting dinner ready for our friend. They HAVE to be here. How irresponsible can I possibly be?
The house is starting to look like a tornado hit. Couch cushions flipped upside-down, clothes strewn all over the floor; everything is amuck. Still no keys.
I am realizing that there is a decent possibility that I will not find my keys. I am standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down my face, feeling completely hopeless, wanting to hurl my body on the ground and weep uncontrollably. (Remember, I said my home is drama-free).
Pull yourself together. Deep breaths.
I take my eyes off the floor and start thinking about how I am going to get myself to work. I go through the list of friends and family that might be able to do it, and the list was very short, and was very not productive. (Mark works one day a week in a town 1.5 hours from where we lives. Tuesday happened to be that day.) Then I realize our city has a transit system that will take people downtown. I ask Mark to check into that. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. He then tells me that the last bus left at 8:05 am. It is now about 9:15am.
Uncontrollable sobbing ensues again.
And might I also add, that while I was a total idiot, Mark was very supportive and did everything he could to help me find my keys and get to work.
I then remember we have a spare car (long story, it's my dad's) that has been in the parking lot at our place. After a ten minute rabbit trail on that idea, I realize I don't have the key to that vehicle.
So. Last resort. Mark says he will call a cab for me. We hang up the phone. I see in the mirror how completely ridiculous it was that I even put on make-up that morning, and dried my tears and put make-up back on, and then packed it in my purse in case I had another meltdown.
I finally let my boss know what was going on. I hadn't called him earlier because I knew that I would not be able to tell him without crying like a little kid. And how embarrassing is that? So, once I had the ride arranged, I texted him. That's all I could muster.
Cabbie Jeff showed up at my apartment at about 9:40. He asked if I was having car troubles. I said "I lost my keys" (tears threatening). Don't fall apart now. You've come this far! I took a deep breath and hopped in his cab, where we had very pleasant conversation for the 15 minute commute to work.
Interestingly, there was a "no smoking sign" in his cab, yet the minute I got in, the smell of cigarettes completely enveloped me. Awesome.
I arrived at work at around 10:00, paid my $30.00 cab fee, and walked into my office, still a little shaky, but there. My boss gave me an encouraging hug and told me it was no big deal, even though he did agree that I smelled like cigarettes. Sweet. My vision was a little fuzzy throughout the day due to crying in my contacts, and my nerves were more than slightly rattled, but other than that, I was able to have a good day.
Mark picked me up from work and I was dreading going back into that apartment. That evil place that hid my keys. Mark let me chill on the couch and watch American Idol before I joined him in the search for the keys. He looked about thirty minutes. And then he found them.
Where, you ask?
Behind the flour jar in the kitchen.
I don't even want to talk about it.
If only I had one of those key chains that makes noise when you clap. Sigh.