I think it goes without saying that I very clearly have my life together and at no time do I spaz out. Except for when I do and I make everyone else around me insanely spaz-y as well. Also, and unrelated, I believe it’s physically impossible for me not to lock myself out of my apartment at least once every few months. But hey, at least I’m consistent.
This weekend we had a pretty packed schedule, and because I love all things involving a checklist, I made one and decided to spend my Saturday morning before the craziness crossing things off, clearly being the envy of everyone around me who wished they were as cool as me. Also, I was out of toilet paper and was forced to go to the store anyway, so why not be productive?
After about an hour and a half of random errands in the 80 degree, humid New Jersey air, I made my way back home to discover that my keys were safely tucked inside the comforting arms of my apartment building. I believe I dropped my grocery bags and purse in a really non-dramatic way in the vestibule and wailed “Not again!!” because that’s how adults handle stress.
And then I texted CB, who was really surprised that this happened.
Me: I need to come up and grab the spare set of keys to my place because I locked myself out.
CB: That sounds about right.
Me: But don’t judge me because I was waiting to shower just before we left for the wedding so I’m sweaty and gross.
CB: I’ll close my eyes.
And then I walked a mile uphill to his place and didn’t once complain about it when I got there.
However, what I did do is completely make CB wish he hadn’t woken up or answered his phone that day. You see, he keeps these keys of mine in a junk drawer, so every time I’ve needed them he just opens it up, grabs the keys, hands ‘em over, and I’m on my way.
But this time he opened the drawer, grabbed the keys, said “These are them, right?” and then I ruined our morning by being a spaz.
Me: No, those aren’t them.
CB: But they’re the only keys in here.
Me: I think I know what my keys look like. They’re on a red key chain or something.
CB, dumping out the contents of his drawer: Are you sure? These are the only keys in here and I don’t know why I’d have any others.
Me: Yes I’m sure. Oh man, where could they be?
CB, not saying anything and now opening every drawer and closet in his apartment.
Me: I mean, I really appreciate you looking, but I think I should call the locksmith because I don’t want to waste any more of our time. Ugh, they’re going to charge me another $150 and last time it took them 2 hours to get there which would likely make us late for the wedding since then I wouldn’t have enough time to shower and do my hair and makeup!
CB, giving me a not-happy-with-me look.
Me: The only reason I’m panicking is because I don’t want to make us late and so I’m thinking I should probably just head back home now instead of spending 20 more minutes looking so that I don’t waste any more of our time.
CB: You know, you panicking isn’t helping me think.
Me: I know, but I can’t help it!
CB: Could you try?
Me: This is me trying.
And then I walked back over to the drawer where the other set of keys were sitting and said “Oh wait, I think these are mine, they just look different!” And then CB wasn’t annoyed at all.
- My bad.
Also, I think all of this helped his slight hangover from the night before because he tried unlocking his apartment door with the car key and mumbled something about how he hadn’t been planning on having to wake up and use his brain this early. And then I think I heard something about how happy he is that we’re together and how I make all situations less stressful and drama-free.
Happy Monday, everyone!
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