Once every four to six months, I do something really stupid. It’s not life and death stupid, more like “I just ruined the rest of my day” stupid. I’ll leave my car on, forget concert tickets at home, or leave town without my wallet. There was also the incident with the busted water pipe in the parking garage, but I’d rather not talk about it. Suffice it to say, I screw myself over two or three times a year.
This past Memorial Day was the occasion for one of these semi-annual brain leaks. I went to the office to work on a book. Because of the holiday, I wouldn’t be seeing clients and the building would be empty and quiet. That last part becomes really important in just a second. I came to the office in casual clothes, got comfy on the couch with my laptop, and took my shoes off (remember that part, too). I also removed my keys, watch, wedding ring, and wallet, which is my habit when I hunker down to write.
After about an hour, nature called. Deep in a literary trance, I hopped off the sofa, grabbed the key for the men’s restroom, and walked out the door. When it slammed shut behind me, I got a surge of adrenaline. Two seconds later, I realized that this was one of my stupid days. I hadn’t unlocked the front door to the suite when I arrived, mainly because I never unlock the front door. My partner Rick always unlocks it because he comes to work so early you’d think he had cows to milk. I tried the door even though I knew it was futile. The knob was immobile and the door wouldn’t budge. I would have had more luck trying to play dominoes with Stonehenge.
I threw a fit in the empty hallway. It started as whining, but escalated to panic as I remembered some important facts. (1) Nobody was in the building, including the manager or anybody else with a set of keys. (2) I didn’t have my wallet or a cent on me. (3) I didn’t have my cell phone. (4) I didn’t have my keys, which included not just my office key, but my car keys, my house key, and the key card to the garage where my car was parked. (5) Finally, the humiliating coup de gras—I had no shoes. And the socks I’d chosen that morning weren’t exactly a pair I wanted to show off.
