In light of my impending induction, I had arranged for a babysitter for Tuesday morning. Lexi would be at preschool. Nana and I were going to spoil ourselves with pedicures and then a few last minute items from the grocery store. Or so we thought.
With the death of the fridge, the grocery list tripled in size. But, without a child in tow, it seemed possible to still get our toes rubbed and manage the store while Lexi was at school. We put on our happy faces and prepared to pile into the Mama Mobile to head off to preschool.
I went for my keys only to discover they were no where to be found. I looked in my purse. On the key rack. On the dresser. In Allen's shorts from yesterday. In his pants from yesterday. In the pants that were on the floor, from the day before yesterday. I looked in the dirty clothes. Nothing.
You see, Allen had been the last to drive the vehicle when he unhooked the trailer after unloading the fridge. Typically, he puts the keys on his side of the dresser. I wondered if perhaps they had fallen into the dresser. So, I looked there. Nope. At this point, Lexi is asking if we're going to school at all. I assure her we are going to school and we'll be leaving in just a few minutes.
Thinking Allen might know where the keys are at (since he used them last and all), I give him a call at work.
"Dude, where are my keys?"
"Um, I don't know. Aren't they in your purse?"
"Nooooo. You used them last. You seriously don't know?"
"Well, did you look on the dresser?"
"Did you look..."
"I looked everywhere you usually leave them, including on the floor with all of your other crap. And, no, I haven't found them. My mother is out in the garage looking through your tools and in the boxes from yesterday and out in the yard. She can't find them either. Do you even care about my life? Of course not! You'd be so @#!*% if I did this to you. But, you know what? I would never, ever do something like this to you. I'm just a little stay at home who can go without? Right? RIGHT!?!"
"Whatever, Allen. I'm going."
Now, Lexi is near tears. "Mom, Mrs. Kinghorn is watiing. Who is going to take snack? Where are Allen's keys?" I assure her once again that we will make it to preschool.
The babysitter is witnessing the beginning of WWIII, but trying to pretend everything is fine as she quietly colors with Addie. Mom and I continue to look for these keys. And, yah, we only have one set so don't even bring it up. I look at mom and voice the dreary thought I've been having: they accidentally got swept into the trash with all of the rotten food late last night when we were delirious and cleaning the kitchen.
And so, my poor mom and I head out to dig in the trash. The trash that is filled with smelly, thawed, rotting meats and all of our wasted perishable items. Now, preschool has long since started, Lexi is frantic, I'm beyond irritated and Mom is kicking around lettuce and bacon on the driveway.
Then, our neighbor begins to make his way over. Now, I'm totally humiliated. He asks us if there is anything he can do to help. We both (with much animation and hand gesturing and raised voices) explain that we've lost our key, Lexi has school (he sees her in tears watching us dig through garbage), we have no groceries and we have no replacement key. And then, he offers us the use of his car. Lexi jumps for joy and we accept his offer.
We put the trash back in the can, get Lexi's gear, wave goodbye to the sitter and make haste to the vehicle. He tells us it needs a little gas ( @#!*% , at this point, I'll pay the bill for a year I so danged grateful to have a ride), but we can use it all day if we need it. We'll be home by 11:30, at the latest, but thank you so much and we'll see you later!
We're 20 minutes late for school and pedicures are out the window at this point, but at least we'll be able to get the food we need.
Now, the vehicle we've been loaned is a nice one. It's a few years old, but it's a nice family sedan. Rides smooth. Comfy seats. The kind that are so comfy it's almost like you're laying down as you drive. Plus, the driver seat is a little broken so it lays even farther back. Let's not forget, I'm a little impaired when it comes to flexibility at this point. So, to sit down in said vehicle, I have to lay almost flat, slide in, roll over and then sit up. Not the most flattering pose I've ever assumed.
We drop off Lexi and head to the gas station to fill it up and take it through the wash as a thank you gesture for our neighbor's thoughtfulness. We can't figure out what side the tank is on and then when we do, I pull up to the wrong side. Twice. Mom is standing outside the vehicle madly gesturing and yelling so I'll get a clue but I still manage to pull up to the wrong side - again. I finally get it right and roll out to fill it up and then roll back in again.
This may not seem utterly and totally hilarious to you, but we were in hysterics. After Monday's events, the crying preschooler, the babysitter's attempt to ignore our family feud, the huffing and puffing of a grandma and pregnant lady digging through trash, the visual of me rolling around in the front seat and the simple fact that we were either going to cry from the stress of it all or pee our pants laughing, we chose the latter and laughed our way through the car wash.
We managed the grocery store and picked Lexi up on time. We returned the car with a full tank and a clean exterior. And, Allen had even come home from work to find the keys. Now, he didn't stay for my arrival. No, he's much smarter than that, but he didn't leave me high and dry (we couldn't even have made a copy the same day since now the keys that can actually start the car have an electronic chip in them so we would have had to order a key and that would really suck since my poor mother would have been stranded at home with my kids while I was in the hospital pushing out a baby - and yes - the threat of that alone was enough for Allen to ditch out on work and find the friggin' keys).
I'm sure you're all dying to know where the keys were, huh.
The anticipation is probably killing you.
He found them in his shorts. Not the ones tossed on the floor. Not the ones tossed on the bed. Not the ones left on the closet floor. Nor in the ones in the hamper. Nope. They keys were tucked ever-so-gently into the pocket of the only shorts that he actually folded and put back in the dresser drawer. Where they belong.
Lessons learned from this experience: 1) have an extra set of keys around. 2) don't put your crap away. It just screws up your thinking.
Again, stay tuned for the next installment of our series. @#!*% Week: Wednesday. Or better known as: "Come on in and have a baby. Oooops! Just kidding!"