I’m in the car returning from an appointment; continuing on my way to run an errand. Only I forget where I was planning to go; and I pull up to our house instead. We live about 2 minutes away from my errand; but instead of turning around, I figure I’ll go inside and pick up a couple things that need to be mailed, and get another errand done at the same time.
I turn off the car. My purse is sitting next to me on the front seat; but I don’t need it for the 30 seconds I’ll be in the house. I do grab the travel mug I filled with coffee earlier this morning— which is still filled but apparently has a leak since the cupholder has a half inch of coffee. I also grab my raincoat ( I always keep one in the car) Only I don’t put it on, even though it’s raining.
Carrying my raincoat and my leaking coffee mug, I slide out of the car.
After living for 15 years in a small safe little town– with a husband who has been known to leave his wallet in his unlocked car—I haven’t changed. You can’t take the city out of the girl. Even for 30 seconds, even in front of my own house, even though it’s unlikely a burglar is roaming around at mid-afternoon on a rainy day on our quiet street….I’m going to lock the car.
I can’t lock the car remotely; the remote on my key doesn’t work. (Don’t ask) So I click the switch on the car door to lock it. And in the very instant the door slams shut, my heart sinks because I realize my purse is sitting there on the front seat of the car with the keys inside.
This is especially annoying because there’s a similar scenario going on in my life right now involving V’s keys—- which he misplaced somewhere in the house a week ago and still hasn’t found. Every day he’s offering me increasingly more valuable incentives and rewards if I manage to find them.
Though I haven’t found his keys, I’m enjoying the feeling of superiority since I don’t do this type of thing as often as he does.
Only now I blew it. Even worse is that V has a spare key to his car; and I don’t. (Don’t even ask; I just don’t.)
So I stand in the driveway—annoyed at myself; and what it’s going to involve to get the car open. At least I can get in the house —after the time I locked myself out of the house, now we have a spare key hidden outside. At least I think so.
Alzheimer’s is looming closer every minute.
I’m still standing in the rain—holding the raincoat.
At least I should put it on. Only I’m still holding the leaky coffee mug, so I move it to my other hand. And I look at my other hand. Which is holding my keys.
(In support of my mental health, please let me know if any of this sounds familiar.)