I don’t know how to make this story sound any more adventurous than it really is.
A few days ago, I begged the ex-husband to give me the camera we had bought when we were together, because let’s face it, DSLRs look really cool when you go trekking. Besides, we bought it for me, anyway. He graciously offered to let me keep it (at which offer I jumped) but I said no thanks, I’ll return it once I come back from the trip.
So now that I’ve been back for two weeks, I had to return the camera to him. Today.
The camera bag is HUGE. And I already carry a large-ish, fit your world in it kinda handbag to work, along with a reasonably large lunchbox that doesn’t fit in my handbag anyway. So you can imagine how frustrated I was with all the bags.
I decided to sort things out, so I picked a really small sling bag (only for today) that barely had enough space for my wallet and a pen. Okay, it’s tiny. That way I could handle the other two packages easily.
I was wearing a grey formal dress that ends two inches above the knees and rides up a little when I sit down. It’s perfect when you want to look
hot professional. So I was feeling particularly good when I found the perfect parking spot right in front of the office. I got out, picked up my three pieces of luggage baggage bags. I locked the car, and this presented a problem. I had nowhere to put the car keys. They wouldn’t fit in my wallet-on-a-string, and I couldn’t have put it in the lunchbox. It had to be the camera bag! I slid the key into the outside pocket.
A few hours later, the ex-husband showed up. I went down, not before I had spent some time “powdering my nose”. I went down, handed the bag to him, casually made conversation about how awesome my workplace is, and then he left. With my car keys.
Ten minutes ago, I got up, announced that I was leaving, picked up my stuff, and walked to my car. Then, I realized that I didn’t have the keys. This, btw, is at least 4 hours after the ex-husband reached home. He lives 1.5 hours away.
And I have no choice but to wait for the shuttle service to drop me off to the nearest Metro station. And in the morning, cajole the fiance into taking a 10 km detour to drop me to where the ex-husband works, wait while I retrieve my keys, and then drop me to my office.