measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In which Mel learns why she needs a keyhook by the door Ah yes, yesterday's adventure which sums up why Mel needs caffeine before she does anything other than turn on a television in the morning... Erich and I get up at seven as we do every morning, and he gets ready for work while I attempt to wake up (by remaining in bed, being a slouch). At around 7:30, it's time to get moving to get him to the commuter rail station so he can go to work, so I throw on one of my pj shirts that's a bit less revealing than the one that I was wearing to bed (Translation: I can go out in this) and shorts (which are short enough that the T-shirt covers them, making me look like I'm only wearing the t-shirt). Hair's still unbrushed (and in a rather interesting condition of "rat's nest" as my mother called it when I was growing up, teeth still unbrushed-- I'm running him down to the train and then coming straight back in my PJ's. It's a whopping mile to the station, so this shouldn't be a big deal. (let me give you that as the first clue). And as always, I can't find my keys. I swear, if I don't lose them once per day, something's the matter with me. (turns out they were on Erich's bedside table... but we'll get back to that later) Erich has his. No problem. We leave, we drive down to the station-- he's driving at this point as always, because I'm a bit too groggy to drive the speed limit (I do NOT wake up quickly in the morning). I give him a kiss, get in the drivers seat, and head over to Dunkin's for my morning coffee-- a cappuchino latte this morning. I get back to the house, take the key... wait.. *key*? There should be *keys* there. Plural. Not key. Shit. Erich had taken the Jeep key off of his keychain, leaving me the car key to drive home, but taking the rest of the keys with him. Meaning I'm now locked out of my apartment because MY set of keys are (at the time) currently hiding somewhere behind the locked door of said apartment. Dammit. I said a few choice explatives, and then attempted to call Erich on his cell-- get his voice mail. I then call his office and leave a message on his answering machine, letting him know that he'll need to come downstairs to give me the keys so I can get into the apartment (I was not going to pay, nor did I have, $50 for them to unlock the apartment door for me). And so, at about 7:45 a.m., I begin my trek to Boston-- in my pj's -- to get my housekeys. In rush hour traffic. It's 20 miles to the city, 20 miles back. I call the office, being completely honest about what's going on because really... who is going to use an excuse that's the adult rendition of "my dog ate my homework" to get off of work unless it's true, right? O-kay. No problem... I'll get up there, get back around 10 and be about an hour late for work, right? Heh... not when there's a car fire on I-93 north, I'm not. Traffic backed up EVERYWHERE. Pure gridlock on top of the normal morning gridlock going into the city. In my somewhat infinite (and still not fully caffeinated) wisdom, I pull off of the highway and begin winding my way up the backroads of Quincy to downtown, hoping that it would be faster. It was-- I was moving at 20 mph instead of 5. But I also had to deal with 20 miles of traffic lights now. And the rest of the poor schmucks who had the same idea as I did. At about 10:45, I finally reach South Boston, and my empty light comes on in the Jeep. Traffic's still sucky, so I decide not to risk running through my last few gallons in the reserve tank, and I pull over to the nearest station, hoping that it's a full-serve. Nope. Now I'm standing in Southie in a BAD neighborhood that is full of housing projects, pumping gas in a get-up that... well, you get the idea. People are walking out of the convenience store looking at me with those startled "She's a fucking PSY-cho!" looks... probably wondering how trailer trash like me is driving the car I'm driving, not to mention wondering how in hell I'd ever dare go out in public dressed like I am. *sigh* I finally get to Erich's office around 11, where an extremely humbled and embarred boyfriend came to the car, mewing pitifully at me, and handed me the keys. I gave him a look, but at the same time we're both laughing because the situation is really funny. I took advantage of the situation to play hooky yesterday. I figured the Gods were having a field day with a Let's Make Mel Whacky, and wanted to make sure I wasn't anywhere to be a danger to myself or others if anything else happend that They had in mind. Turns out that all of my coworkers were trying to envision what type of PJ's I got stuck in outside. I'm horrified at the person who thinks I wear a babydoll to sleep in. 11:16 a.m. - 26 September 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||