One of the best things about having a blog is that when you finding yourself in an irritating situation, you can be almost pleased about it because you know it will make a good post.
A few months ago, I had a birthday and a good friend gave me a gift certificate to a day spa. It’s been held hostage by two large magnets on my fridge for some time, but now that I have a regular once-a-week babysitter, I decided to liberate it and have a relaxing afternoon to myself.
I scheduled an appointment for a 1-hour relaxation massage and a pedicure. On Thursday, the babysitter arrived. I left the house a little early and did something extremely uncommon for me. I went shoe shopping. (Don’t get mad at me, Mongoose. You know I prefer to shop with you.) I picked out a pair of sandals with a bit of a heel. Normal women would call them casual, but to me, “casual” means the canvas sneakers that I have already worn holes in, so these are down right fancy.
I proceeded to the day spa. I had a very relaxing massage and a 1-hour pedicure where my feet were soaked and moisturized and painted and pampered. Very nice. Not the sort of thing I do often. It was a nice treat.
I left the spa feeling calm and peaceful and floated back to my car with my soft little feet snugly clad in my new sandals.
It was 4:15 when I pulled back into Woodland. I needed to be home at 4:30 p.m. My babysitter, Kelly, was already kindly staying a half hour longer than normal so I could take this little outing, but she had a dress rehearsal for a dance performance that evening, so I needed to be home by 4:30.
With 15 minutes to kill, I stopped at the bank in the shopping center about a mile away from my house to pick up some cash to pay the sitter, and I popped into the Starbucks next door for an iced chai while I was there. They made it hot instead of iced, but I was having too good a day to complain, and anyway, the air conditioning would be on at home and I needed to get going.
Okay, now I want you to get a good picture of me standing there next to my car in the shopping center parking lot. I’m wearing a cute little skirt and a little white summer top for my afternoon out. I even left my hair down (a hazardous style with an infant around, but I’m out for the afternoon, remember). I’m wearing my nice new little sandals over my fresh feet and purple toes. Shock and wonder, I’m carrying a purse. (Don’t have a heart attack, Mom.) My shoulders are relaxed. I’ve got my Starbucks cup in one hand and a smile on my face.
Can you see it?
Now watch the picture change as I realize that I’ve locked my keys in my car.
[substract smile]
I now have to be home in 10 minutes, and I’m 0.8 miles away from the house (thank you, google maps). I look blindly around the shopping center for a phone. Let me inform all you cell phone owners out there of something. There are no pay-phones anymore. There not only not putting them in at new locations, they are taking them out of old ones. I run to the grocery store.
“Is there a pay-phone around here anywhere?” I ask the lady at the customer service counter.
“Yes,” she says brightly. “Across the street at the college.”
Across the street, my butt. I may as well run home.
“Can I borrow your phone for a local call?”
I call the house. Kelly doesn’t normally pick up the phone when I’m not there. It’s not going to be for her and I don’t pay her to be my secretary, after all. The machine picks up. I talk to the answering machine for awhile hoping that she’ll pick up when she hears my voice. No dice. Now I’m stuck. I have to be home in five minutes.
[add tense shoulders]
I have no transportation. There are people I could call, if I had phone numbers with me, which I don’t. With no alternatives left, I run.
I made it half way there, still clutching my supposedly relaxing chai tea
[add brown spots to outfit]
in 95º weather
[add sweat rivulets and hair tangles]
before I had to take off the new shoes
[add blisters]
and run in my newly softened feet on the pavement.
[add dirt and subtract lovely purple toe nail paint]
I showed up at my house 10 minutes later. I’m told an 8-minute mile is fairly respectable for a runner. I’m not a runner. I was impressed with a 10 minute 0.8 mile.
Let’s get back to that picture. I’m now panting like a dog and seriously disheveled. My cute little outfit is sporting more dark spots than most dalmatians can boast. My hair is in sweaty snarls. My toes are less purple than they ought to be and the soles of my feet are far more black than they ought to be, and I’ve earned four new blisters thanks to the new shoes. (The old sneakers with the holes in them are still locked in the car with my keys, incidentally). The Starbucks cup is empty and the smile is long gone.
So, what have we learned here... We learned that, while not stylish, sneakers with holes in them are damned useful. We’ve learned that pavement is hot in Woodland in the summer. We’ve learned that Shannon is forgetful and needs to have her keys permanently attached to her body. We’ve learned that joining the 21st century and acquiring a cell phone might just be useful.
Noted.
So, I’ve ordered a cell phone. We’ll see how long it takes before I lock it in the car with my keys...
Any bets?