Tuesday, April 01, 2008

In Which I Am A Dumbass

Ok, second day back to school- they got lunches, jackets, homework, back packs etc. We take the dogs- I always take the dogs when it's a day off work, because it is very satisfying to make two creatures so happy just by letting them ride in the car. To somewhere you were going, anyway. I drop off son one at his school. I park at second school, I walk in son two. No dogs allowed, so they wait in the car. I go back to the car, I get the dogs, I lock the car, I walk the dogs. I have a wonderful walk. We see herons, but we do not bark at them. Good dogs. Lots of coots, those low in the water duck like birds that have chicken feet. I head back to the car.

The car is locked. I have no keys. How did I lock the car? I only lock it with the remote, because I have these tendencies. Nope, no keys. I walk back the walk I already walked, paying special attention to the places where I pulled plastic bags out of my pockets to scoop poop. No keys.

I go to the school office. I am carrying a small dog, I have a large one tied to the bench out front, and she is howling. Ginger likes to express herself, and she's a big dog and pretty loud. I go into the office- excuse me mam no dogs on school property- I know, I need your phone book, I locked my keys in the car. Oh. I call a random locksmith. I wait, outside, in the delightful little spring drizzel we are having. I am loitering outside the school, feeling odd but smiling at everyone who walks past, staring and wondering why is that woman and those dogs sitting on the sidewalk in the rain? Will the locksmith never come?

An unmarked van pulls up and he says, well it's $89US is that ok? Uh, yeah, sure, because in the forty minutes I sat on the sidewalk in the rain, I couldn't think of a better idea. So he breaks into my car so effortlessly and quickly, using ordinary bits- not even real tools. I get my purse. There is no wallet.

I shake out the purse. There is no wallet. There are keys, though. But no wallet. At the advice of the nice locksmith I start calling people who might give me their credit card number. I get halfway down the list before my BFF, Midwestern branch, answers the phone. Can I have your credit card number? Sure. How come? Now that is love.

1 comment:

AlisonH said...

You DO have a nice friend!

I did something like that once. Had to call a locksmith to get at my keys--only, when he got me into my car finally, they weren't in there either and I never did see them again. Where I'd just been? In court, testifying against a road-rage stranger I hoped never to see again. I could only guess he didn't somehow pocket them because nothing ever happened, other than the agony of that day, quite self-contained in its little time frame.