Some days I just shouldn’t get out of bed.  I woke up this morning, did my standard ablutions, got dressed, and toddled off to the car to drive into work.  The morning drive was pretty uneventful and traffic seemed really light.  There are bonuses to school being out for the full-time students – traffic and parking most notably.

I was feeling pretty spiffy since I’d managed to find a nice little suit jacket to pair with my outfit today.  It dressed up my jeans nicely while still allowing me to enjoy the relaxed dress code over the summer months.  I was plotting out my day and dreaming of my first cup of Timmies. 

After meeting up with a co-worker on the sidewalk outside the parking garage, I noticed something very strange.  My pockets weren’t jingling.  I couldn’t hear my keys.  I did the mad dash pocket pat.  I put hands in empty pockets repeately.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  As if by dint of repetition my keys would magically appear.  They didn’t.  My co-worker (bless her) and I trekked back up the stairs to my truck.  I had visions of keys sitting on my passenger seat roaming through my head.  I distinctly remembered locking my door when I exited the truck.  I always do.  As we approached my truck I knew it was far, far worse.  Not only had I locked my keys in my vehicle.  I’d locked my keys in my running vehicle.

Go ahead.  Get it out of your system.  Laugh it up.  Someday this will happen to you and I’ll be pointing and laughing with the rest of them.

I knew we had spare keys.  I knew exactly where those spare keys were.   They were attached to the hubby’s keyring.  I have his spare keys on mine.  Where was Drew?  On base.  At work.  For hours.  Not only did the driving world – or at least all drivers parking in the parkade this morning – have to know about my shame, but uniformed men and women were soon to discover my idiocy.  I know a few of them already suspected I was absentminded and slightly loony.  Now they have confirmation.

Today would be the day when I’d decided I didn’t need to bring a cell phone with me.  I had put it into my pocket this morning, had second thoughts, and decided that I should perhaps plug it in.  Too lazy to bring the power cord to work, I plugged my cell in at home.  My co-worker (double bless her) handed me her phone.  

How many people know the phone number for their local military base switchboard off the tops of their heads?  Yeah.  Me neither.  That’s why I have phone numbers stored in my cell’s contact list.  They’re not there to make me look popular.  I called 411 – dialing “0” gets you no where on a cell – and struggled through the NLU phone menu.  Idiot drivers racing through the parking lot made it hard to hear.  I’ll pretend that’s the reason I was offered the phone number for the Edmonton Infant Death Support Society (or something similar) when I asked for the number for CFB Edmonton Garrison.  Much button pushing ensued and I finally got to talk to a live body.  She kept offering me the phone number for Canadian Forces Recruiting.  I kept insisting I wanted Edmonton Garrison.  If I hadn’t been so stressed it might have been hilariously funny. 

When I got the number for the switchboard I waited on the line to talk to an operator.  I needed the extension for the area Drew works in.  If you don’t have that tracking a person down on base can be an exercise in futility.  It’s not like the MP’s will wander the base calling “Here Drewey Wooey.  Come on boy.  Here’s a good boy.”  Then, instead of patching me through, the operator hung up. I called the number I’d managed to piece together and landed at the Sgt’s desk.  Rather than passing the phone to Drew, he gave me Drew’s extension and hung up.  So there I was.  Standing in the parking lot with my truck running, lights on, and doors locked.  Calling Edmonton Garrison for the third time. 

Brrrriiiing.  Brrrriiiiing.

And then Drew’s voice was on the line.  Which meant I had to tell him what I’d done.  I really needed that spare key.  It couldn’t be helped.  I spilled my guts.  Drew asked where I was.  I told him.  He hung up on me before I could tell him which floor of the parking garage I was on.  Ah well. He’d find me when he arrived.  Depending on traffic, it’s a 20-45 minute drive to the college from Base. 

I waited.  Despite being patrolled by security guards, undesirables sometimes made their way through the parking garage.  Occasionally the air in the stairwells would be thick with dope smoke or a vehicle would be broken into.  Leaving a locked truck running just seemed like too much temptation to me.  So, after profusely thanking my co-worker for the loan of her phone and keeping me company I sent her on her way. And I waited. 

More of my co-workers drove by and witnessed my foolishness.  Some stopped to chat.  D, the last in the office before Drew arrived, promised that his lips were sealed and that he wouldn’t tell a soul.  I warned him it was all for naught.  Everyone else already knew.  *sigh*  At around 8:30am (so much for getting to work early this morning) my knight in not-so-shiny uniform arrived.  He switched his car off, handed me his keys.  I opened my door, got my keys, and walked back to him loudly begging me NOT to lock his keys in my truck.  Ha. Ha. Ha.  He’s such a funny guy.

I offered to buy him coffee.  He declined.  Some silly nonsense about having to get back to work as soon as possible.  Keys in hand, I headed for the office.  And forgot to stop for coffee.  It’s just going to be one of those days…

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