If there's one thing I historically have not done, it's lock myself out of my car. I think before this week I had done it a grand total of once. Yes, I said 'before this week' so snicker away.
Sunday I had to work for a few hours after the Fairytopia show. Stef dropped me off at home, then drove the hour or so down to Toledo to drop off our niece. I stayed home for a few minutes to let the dogs run around, then headed in. On the way I stopped to pick up a couple Dews at my favorite 'on the way' stop-n-rob, and finally rolled into work roughly 45 minutes after Stef had left for Toledo. I parked the truck at the loading dock (not normally a place one should be parking, but traditional for people in my department to abuse in the off hours,) grabbed my Dews and headed for the door. As I approached, I felt the odd sensation of my hand not feeling my keys as I reached in my pocket. I did a frantic search of jacket and pants to find nothing.... of course I found nothing: the were sitting on the seat of my locked truck. I called Stef, who offered to come home (having just arrived at our niece's home) but I told her to wait until I could try and find help locally. After a few unsuccessful calls to coworkers and a low battery warning on my cell phone, a helpful DPS offices let me in to my office until Stef could come rescue me. Highly embarrassing.
Yesterday, Sarah and I went out to buy things for Stef's birthday, and when I got home (sure enough!) I left the keys in the ignition, locked the doors and walked in the house. If Stef hadn't been home we would have been sunk.
So let's see, that's one time in the first 20 years of driving, and now twice in the last week.
Heretical Ramblings #18 - Late? Perhaps, but I fully intend to blame helping my sister-in-law move on Friday for that. --------------------------------------------------News-The Age...
4 days ago