The Importance of Spare Keys

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I fear mine is on the verge of dementia. I can prove it. Today, I drove with my husband to the airport for his flight to his mothers in Arizona. In front of the check-in counter, we stopped, he got out to get his bags and I promptly exited the car to assume the driver's role. Problem began when he closed the trunk. I kissed him goodbye and went to the driver's door...locked!

Now, he had to hurry to check-in and I assured him I would be fine. He no sooner left the area than my palms became sweaty, my heard scudded against my breastbone, and I felt sick. My purse, phone, everything was in the car...even the pills I needed for the rising panic I felt. And the car was running.

Already a line of traffic formed behind me, assuming like everyone else, we would drop off and move on. Surprise, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

The first person I snared was a traffic control woman. She was full of giggles because she couldn't figure out her radio. Each time she depressed the key, it beeped loudly, rendering it useless. I finally managed to explain my dire situation after she went on for ten minutes about her radio and how so and so put her on the current channel, but now it seemed to be off-line, and she wasn't supposed to be off-line, after all...how could she call anyone? "How about that cell phone in your hand," I asked. In ten minutes another traffic control person showed up, played around with her radio, declared it broken, and left. She phone another number, this time requesting assistance for ME.

Another twenty minutes and Passenger Assistance shows up in a white truck with flashing yellow lights atop. To shorten my anguish, I'll simply say, the wonderful man jimmied my door, opened my window and unlocked my car. I was overjoyed to be on my way, but hugged him first. Not just a little hug, but a big bear-squeeze that left him breathless. No...not breathless in the sexual way, but because I literally squeezed the air out of him.

So, while headed down the highway in the pouring Tennessee rain, I started thinking about my blog. A sudden flash of memory raced through my brain...recalling the time I blogged about locking Spencer in the car. Perhaps you remember? Right after I got the PT Cruiser, and how I fell to pieces with guilt. But...I digress.

Another thought struck me...after the Spencer incident, I swore it would never happen again, and marched right down and had a spare key made and put it in a magnetic box, then Kelly attached it to the car's underside. Yep...when I got home, I had my son check, and it wasn't just a false image. There it was...snug as a bug in it's little case...that spare key. I could have saved myself and others a big headache if I had a brain.

Sad, I can't get a spare memory, but then if I put that in a magnetic box and stored it somewhere, what would I have to buy to help me remember where I put that? Life is a vicious circle these days. :(