Tuesday, February 7, 2012
A PRISONER IN MY OWN HOUSE (PART 1)
It was a bad morning. I had spent most of the night awake. Insomnia rules.
I squared my shoulders when my alarm went off (no small feat, as I was sprawled out on the living room floor), and nevertheless prepared myself for my day. Everything was actually fine, until I got out the door and realized I didn't have my wallet.
See, my wallet contains the keycard for the pedestrian gate into and out of our apartment complex. You can't get the big gate to open unless you're a car.
So, I returned to my apartment and searched frantically for my wallet. It was nowhere to be found. Poor commutergirl. I didn't make her morning any nicer by grumpily stamping about the apartment looking for the dratted thing.
Eventually I despaired of ever finding it and was pretty sure I had lost it forever. I went back out to the gate and waited for a car to come by so the gate would swing open. As I stood there, I listened to the roar of cars on the freeway, loud even at 6:15 a.m. and even a mile away. I thought about how most people never think about how loud the freeway is.
Then I heard the sound that was music to my ears--a car starting. I never thought I'd say that.
Forever later, the car actually swung into view, and I exited the gate behind it.
Work actually wasn't too bad. Taking a nap instead of lunch definitely helped.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .