You know you’re in for a long day when you are last-minute throwing your work bag together, getting a coffee, giving the kids the “one minute” warning, and you reach into your purse…
and the keys are gone.
They’re not in the purse, not on the bookshelf, not on the file cabinet. Not anywhere they should be.
After looking high and low, I called the last person to have driven the car (Frank) and he said they were on the shelf. By this time I’m sweating a cold sweat, the kids are late for school, I’m late for work. I told the boys to get out to the bus, since I had no clue how we were getting anywhere (not to mention I felt a fit coming on). They went out to the bus stop. I had a second or two of indulgent sobs, then reluctantly fished out a couple dollars for my own bus ride.
I was not prepared to go metro. I hadn’t even looked into a mirror. I had to grab my backpack and leave my purse, carry my coffee and slink down to the bus stop on the opposite side of the street as my boys. One just looked at me, the other looked and then looked away. Awkward written all over his face. Their bus came. Mine, delayed.
I have no problem taking the metro. I wish it were cheaper. But, I was not ready. Not prepared. I didn’t even remember the bus I was to transfer to.
And how much is bus fare? Two dollars? More? Naturally, I had forgotten my phone in my purse at home, so I couldn’t send angry texts to my husband’s work email (lucky dog).
My ride went smoothly, but not comfortably. I kept having the feeling I was still in my slippers or pajama pants. Unprepared, that’s what it was.
The ride home felt similar, but at least I knew what I was getting into. I let myself fume a little too much, though. Especially when I found out that my husband, who was at work, had the keys in his pocket the whole time.