Friday morning I left for work with a deposit slip still on the table by the stairs. I meant to bring it to work so I could run to the bank at lunch. Normally I do banking after work, but I figured since Friday was Tax Day, the usual lunchtime bankers would be in line at the post office. When I realized I forgot the slip, I figured I would run home after work, grab the slip, and then run to the bank.
When I came home Friday, I left my purse in the car (locked the car of course), ran in, grabbed the slip and ran out. As soon as I closed the door I realized that my keys were inside. I haven't locked myself out of the house since I was in junior high and I remember that when I did, I'd go to the back of the house, run up the porch stairs, and climb in through the bathroom window. Friday I wasn't so lucky to have anything unlocked. Everything I needed was either in a locked car or a locked house. Ken wouldn't be home from work for another 2 hours and I couldn't find any neighbors home for me to use their phone. And so I sat on the front steps and waited. And waited. It's funny how your mind wanders when you have nothing to do. First I thought that if my company had direct deposit, none of this would have happened. Then I just started thinking that this must be what people feel like when they become homeless. Lost. Desperate for shelter (it was pretty chilly). Primitive. It was silly really. A silly comparison. I knew I'd be back in the house soon, but again. My mind wanders when the everyday items we take for granted are suddenly not within reach anymore. I kept going around the house, thinking that maybe one of these windows will miraculously unlock. I was imagining myself in one of those movie roles where I would be crawling on the ground, hair disheveled and my clothes shredded groaning, "Water. Water." in a dry and raspy voice. My academy award-winning performance was over sooner than expected when Ken came home earlier than planned and rescued me from the wild.
Speaking of which, I saw someone walking a ferret the other day. Cars slowed down to watch. From a distance it looked like a small cat, but when I realized it was a ferret, it made me smile. It was one of those random things you never expect to find.
I also found out that Jack Johnson is coming to a very small venue (a minor league baseball field) in September in the next town over. I must get tickets for this. His first album (does anyone call them albums anymore) was the best, and his second is my next CD purchase. Have you heard his rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer? Jack Johnson is the exception to the rule about pop singers making their own rendition of Holiday songs. He makes it his own. Man I love him.
And please visit Daniel's blog today to wish him a happy 29th birthday.
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5 comments:
Yes, I am always calling them albums...than catching myself and saying cd. The kids today (god, do I sound like my father) don't even know what real albums are. I love albums, I have thousands of them, that I refuse to part with. CDs are more convinent but would we have the cover art to Sgt Peppers or a thousand other wonderful album covers if all we had was cds? I doubt it. I love my cds for the fact that I can listen to them in my car, but I miss albums.
I was going to comment on the last time I got locked out because my newly bought puppy finally ran out of the house when I was trying to get her out of the house and I slammed the door quickly and realized that my keys were still inside. Why I just didn't pick her up and carry her outside I don't know. See, I was going to talk about that, but I got carried away talking about albums.
Never locked myself out of the house.
But I've locked my keys in my car numerous times!
i've locked my keys in the car with the car running and i've locked myself out of my house and had to wait in the backyard for a long time. I think i even blogged about it and how bizerre it was. (hmm.. more jodi similarities)
Jack Johnson is the best! I think all three of his albums are good, but am partial to the first and third. (brushfire fairytales and in between dreams)
I locked myself out for the first time about a month ago, and it became quite the ordeal because not only do I live on the 2nd floor, so no climbing in, but I live alone, so I had to get ahold of my flaky landlord and then find a ride out to his office (on a Sunday) to retrieve my keys. And of course, once I got there, he didn't show up for another 40 minutes . . .
But the true miracle of the story is that I hadn't locked myself out sooner since I had gotten myself into the habit of locking the doorknob before closing it behind me (and not using my key).
Needless to say, I've been very aware of having my keys with me ever since.
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