I arrived a tad early to work on Wednesday morning to find an absence of parking spaces. I did the best I could and parked in the yellow lines that mark the triangular edge of the smaller lot. Some days we park wherever the car will fit. Since I had ten minutes I took a few to call my sister. I also took a minute to pull out my camera and snap a photo of the crying reptilian tree staring at me through the passenger window. (Enlarge him if you can. He's really quite amusing.)
Out of habit, while on my way down the sidewalk toward my vehicle, I reached into my pocket for the car key. It wasn't there. I checked my other pocket. Not there either. I hadn't worn a coat or sweater and never put my key into my backpack. Several scenarios raced through my mind. Did I leave the key in the van? If so, did I lock the doors like every other day? If so, who would I call? We don't have roadside assistance anymore. I decided it was a good thing it was early and I have a cell phone.
When I reached the parking lot and looked into my van, I could see the ring from my key dangling from the ignition. "Oh, great," I thought, "I'm going to be locked out." I pulled the door handle and found, to my utter amazement, that not only had I been absent minded enough to leave the key, but I'd forgotten to lock the doors as well. And my van was still there. (Thank you, Lord.)
So, my dear Wanda, you are not losing it alone. I'm right there with ya!
The Barn Collective.
7 hours ago