Sometimes I'm an idiot.
Sometimes I'm more than an idiot. Sometimes I'm a downright fucking moron.
I went to Tarjay the other day mostly because it's my happy place, but also because I needed things for the house. I spent a long time shopping, and I was late on my way to get home. Husband was waiting for me so we could go do something. I don't remember what.
Anyway, I'm neurotic about my purse when I'm in supermarkets and parking lots. I took my purse out of the cart and set it in my trunk while I was unloading groceries. In a choreographed dance that I can barely remember, somehow my body got ahead of my brain, and I instinctively closed the trunk before grabbing my purse.
Cue the instant flood of terror and the OH SHIT.
I knew it soon as the trunk closed that I had done things out of order. Thank BOB I still had my phone in my pocket. My trunk was closed with my purse in it and my car was locked. Well, fuck.
My terror quickly turn to embarrassment which quickly turned to OH-MY-GOD-I-HAVE-TO-TELL-MY-HUSBAND-THAT-I-LOCKED-MY-KEYS-IN-MY-CAR. Images of how I would never live that down across across my head, and I considered just moving into Target instead of calling him. I could get a job, work there, and never have to go home again. Instead, I womaned up and called him. "I'm an idiot," I said. I told him I happened.
Because he's away nicer person than I am, he didn't make fun of me. He didn't give me crap. He didn't even complain. He just got my extra key, got in the car and came to get me. There is no Target near our house, and it was a half an hour drive to get to me. This is not a short distance. So I wandered around Target with my tail between my legs wondering when, just when, I would get my head out of the clouds, come back down to Earth and pay attention to what the fuck I'm doing.
Probably never, but it's a good idea.
As always, it's hip to be square (and a total airhead), kids.