Well, I've had a fun morning. This is my last day of work before my 4 day holiday, and I was set. Christmas sweater, check. Jingle bells on a bow in my hair, check. Long dangly ribbon earrings, check. Christmas cds in my purse to listen to, check. I was in a Merry Christmas sort of mood and it was going to be fun day! I was running a little late so I decided to drive to work instead of walking like I usually do. Besides, wearing my Arctic Explorer hat would crush the jingle bells in my hair. I pulled the car out of the garage and put it in park to go close the garage door. I ran back to the car, jingling merrily at every step and … The car door was locked. Damn those auto-lock doors. Well, I had an emergency key hidden in the garage. I'd get that and … No. The garage door was locked and the key to the garage was on the ring which was in the car, which was locked and running in the parking lot. Curse it all! The garage was a STUPID place to keep a spare key. Crap. Well, I had a spare set of car keys in the apartment. I'd just run up there and get them … No. The apartment was locked and my apartment keys were on the ring which was in the car, which was locked and running in the parking lot. Dammit. Why didn't we have an apartment manager on site? Hey! I know! My friend Jill had a spare set of keys to my apartment. I'd give her a call … No. The phone was in my purse, which was in the car, which was locked and running in the parking lot. After several fruitless minutes of cursing and kicking the car, I walked to work. My hat and mittens were in the car which was locked, so it was a bit of a nippy walk, but I walked briskly (jingling all the way) and got to work –and my telephone—in less than 15 minutes. Thank God it wasn't very cold this morning. I call Jill up on my desk phone and ask her to come to my apartment with my spare keys on her way in to work. She sounds surprised because oh, yeah, I got those keys from her on Monday so that my brother could have them and be able to come and go while he stayed with me for Christmas. Those keys are in my purse, which is in the car which is locked and running in the parking lot.

Okay, so now I'm wheezing like a tea kettle from my asthma (can you say "Stress Induced?") and wishing like heck that I had my inhaler, but no! It's in my purse, which is locked in my car, which is still running in the parking lot of my apartment building. With no other options, I call the local locksmith. Sure, he could get my door open, but since it was before office hours he would have to charge me extra. Fine. I rip those damned bells out of my hair and begin to stomp back home, still wheezing but thankfully not jingling.  My neighbors, whose cars I have neatly blocked in, are a tad unhappy with me. I thought I'd heard all the four letter words there are while I was in the military, but I think they've invented some new ones since then. The locksmith meets me 30 minutes later. I time how long it takes him to get my car open. From the moment he opened his door until he opens my door is 64 seconds. Yay! $75.00 later I have a car that I can get into! And neighbors who may decide to let me live!

This day hasn't turned out like I thought it would, but it could have bee nworse. Right? It could have. And it gave me an idea for a short story for Christmas 2011.  To a woman who is locked out of her still-running car a locksmith can be a knight in shining armor. And, hey, they can be hunky, right? I think a romantic comedy plot bunny is thumping me with his hind feet.

Merry Christmas everyone!