Yesterday after work, I stopped in at one of the local garden centres. I picked out a bunch of flowering plants of various colours to fill my various flower boxes and pots. I paid for everything (and every year I am astonished at how much a couple of flats of wee plants cost), and stowed them in the trunk of my car. I slammed the trunk lid and replaced the trolley in the correct spot. I went back to my car and stuck my hand in my pocket for the keys.
The keys that weren’t there.
I stood there, confused. WTF? I ALWAYS put my keys in my left front pocket. ALWAYS.
Well, apparently NOT always.
It slowly dawned on me where the keys were. When I had opened the trunk, for some reason, I had placed my wallet and the keys in one of the cardboard flats, beside the three pink impatiens, the yellow begonia and the dracena spike that I had bought, then I had carefully placed that flat in the trunk with all other stuff. I had taken my wallet off the flat and tucked it in its usual place in my school bag. Then I had closed the trunk. I had not taken my keys off the flat. So, I had just locked my keys in the trunk of my car.
And now I was one of those people who do that sort of thing. One of those idiots.
To make matters worse, even my phone was oh-so-safely locked in the car. I considered climbing in the open sunroof, but that wouldn’t get me the keys in the trunk. Besides, I’d probably set off the alarm, or break something either on the car or on my body.
So I returned to the cashier in the garden centre and asked to use their phone. I called DD, praying that she would actually pick up (she often lets it go straight to voicemail if an unknown number is displayed) and also that she was home. I got lucky. She did pick up and she was at home.
She hopped in her car and brought me my extra set of keys. Actually, she tossed them at me with a sigh, enunciating carefully so that I would understand, “You are an idiot.”