I know today is Free Advice Friday but something very disturbing and equally embarrassing happened to me on Wednesday. So naturally, I wanted to share it with you.
*side note: I’m tired and sick with Bronchitis so this story might come across as a bit rambly and full of grammatical errors.
**Auto-correct says “rambly” isn’t a word. I’m not in the mood, auto-correct. NOT. IN. THE. MOOD.
When picking Ana up from preschool on Wednesday (which is at our gym), I parked in the temporary lot, locked my car, and ran in to get her. But surprise, surprise, she didn’t want to leave. Oh nooo, she begged and begged to stay and play with her friends. I felt like shit but decided to let her run around for a few minutes in the play area while I sat on a bench, zombiefied. After 20 minutes and a lot of threatening, she finally emerged from one of those damn hamster tunnels ready to leave. But when I reached for my car keys…they weren’t there. Oh, shit. I emptied all my pockets, checked Ana’s backpack, lunch box (you never know), her classroom, the front desk. Nothing. I must have locked them in the car. Son of a bitch!
My friend Amanda– “Do you have a spare key?”
Me– “I do!” Said with enthusiasm.
Amanda– “Where is it?”
Me– “Umm…in my locked car.” Said with the opposite of enthusiasm.
Amanda– “Do you think you have another key at home? I can drive you there.”
When we arrived at my house I looked in vain for an extra key, hoping and praying. But nope, no key. So we drove back to the gym in silence, both of us wondering what kind of asshole leaves their spare car key IN the car. I’m pretty sure it takes a special kind of asshole.
Remembering I had Road Side Assistance through my cellular phone provider, I called customer service and they transferred me to a lady who couldn’t understand a word I said because we had a bad cellular connection. Is “irony” the right word, here?
After a painful 10 minute conversation in which I had to spell everything, “That’s A as in apple, K as in kill me now…'”, she assured me that Pop-A-Lock would be there shortly. So we headed to the cafe and ordered a smoothie while waiting for the Pop-A-Lock guy to call. And that’s when I noticed a funny look on Ana’s face.
Me– “Ana? What’s going on?”
Ana– *funny look/turning red/eyes bulging*
Me– “Ana? Do you need to poop?”
Ana– whispering like that kid in The Sixth Sense “I can’t move or it’s going to come out.”
Faster than you can say “bowel movement”, I picked her up (somehow she remained in a frozen squat position), rushed her to the bathroom and plopped her ass on the toilet.
Ana – “I can’t go.”
Ana– “It’s going to hurt.”
And in the middle of my threats, brides, begging, words of encouragement, etc., the phone rings. It’s the Pop-A-Lock guy and he’s waiting next to my car. Of course he is.
Me to Ana– “The man’s at my car so suck it back up, we gotta go! C’mon!”
I got her off the toilet, put her coat on, and walked her back to my girlfriend who was sitting in the cafe.
Me– “The guy’s out there. Can you watch her?”
I wanted to add “…and she might shit her pants.” but a statement like that usually requires some elaboration and I was kinda in a hurry.
My car keys were in my hand.
In. My. Hand.
How the hel…????? What the fuc…????????
At that moment, every fiber of my being wanted to believe in unicorns, fairies, witches, Santa, basically anything magical- because if magic doesn’t exist then I was going bat shit crazy.
You don’t understand. Those keys were not in my possession earlier. I had emptied all my coat pockets, I had no purse, I was wearing yoga pants with zero pockets, I even left Ana’s backpack and lunch box at the house when I went back looking for another key. I had nothing but a jacket and a cell phone! So where did the keys come from? And how did they get in my hand?
I’m pretty sure I had a glimpse of Dementia that day, and Dementia is ugly, my friends.
I told Amanda that I found them in Ana’s coat pocket, which I’m not even sure is true, but it’s the only thing I could think of. After all, I was holding her jacket against me while she played and I was holding it again in the bathroom minutes before finding them IN MY HAND…so I probably slipped them in there? Right?
But here’s the part that freaks me out the most: At some point between the bathroom and the cafe, I purposefully reached for those keys. Meaning, that deep down I knew where they were. Was I really so mentally distracted that the part of me responsible for unconscious bodily functions like breathing & blinking, stepped in and said “Jesus, do I need to do everything around here? Hang on, Lungs, I need to find this bitch’s keys.”
So what did I do about the Pop-A-Lock guy?
I ran outside, saw him about to shove a long metal rod down my car window, and yelled “STOP!” all dramatic like. Then walked over with a cool “Here, let me get that for you.”, opened the car door, grabbed my wallet, and paid him.
Please, someone, tell me something like this happened to you so I know I’m not going crazy. Unless something like this happened to you and you did go crazy- keep that shit to yourself.