Ashley had a job interview in downtown DC today.
She borrowed my car since her pick-up is more fit for Alabama than DC.
She made it to her interview on time and everything went well. Yet when she returned to the car to go home, she realized that the car keys were missing from her bag.
Panic ensued. A frantic phone call to our house was made.
This was especially grievous.
Due to my own misfortune a few months ago, that was the last remaining key we have for my car. Getting another one made was something on our ‘to-do’ list, but you know … it’s still on that list. And yeah, that key chain was filled with all the keys I need for my life.
In a great show of optimism (and probably some reluctance to find a way back to our house), she went back on the Metro subway to re-trace her steps while I called about a tow truck while Martin called a dealership to get more information about key replacements.
Then he went to Amelia the Minivan to drive to the car.
Amelia’s battery was dead.
So we pull up Ashley’s pick-up truck to jump the minivan.
Ashley’s pick-up truck coughed a few times, and then it, too, died there on our front lawn next to Amelia.
Oh, did I mention that it was freezing and raining today? Our front lawn is a swamp.
So, as Martin and I stood out there in the dark in the freezing rain sinking into the swampy ground while trying to figure out what to do next … our house phone rang.
It was my gym.
Instead of asking why they haven’t seen my bum on the elliptical since the New Year, the friendly receptionist wanted to let us know that a gentleman called them to report my missing keys. He found their number on my gym membership key tag, and thought he could find a way to reach me through them.
As Martin took down the gentleman’s information from the receptionist, I got on our cell phone to send a message to Ashley that she was welcomed back in our house again because a stranger, an angel — seriously, DC is home to the very best people, don’t ever forget it — found our keys on the street downtown and offered to meet her to give them to her.
Just as I was hanging up with her, we heard a loud knock on our front door. It was our neighbor Bob offering to help Martin jump-start Amelia the Minivan so that Martin could run down to the mechanic to get a new battery.
And as the two of them hurried into the darkness of our swampy front lawn to repair the vehicles, I felt a tug on my shirt sleeve.
It was Miss C’s best friend Bella, who had a giant wooden splinter embedded in her bare foot.
Within minutes, I was kneeling in our bathroom with Miss C hovering over my shoulders, holding a desk lamp over her best friend’s foot as Bella lay on the floor, smiling as best she could as I prodded a splinter the size of Texas that was probably criss-crossing her metatarsus.
“I’m serious,” I said, “we’ll be able to throw this one in the fireplace when we’re done.”
Yet it became clear that the splinter was not going to go anywhere without really digging into her skin. Had it been one of my kids, I would have handed over a washcloth for them to chew on, pulled out some steak knives and a headlamp, and really worked that sucker out, but alas, this wasn’t my kid.
So, after she agreed she could at least hobble on it, I slathered some first-aid cream on it, wrapped it up gently, and waited with her for her mom to pick her up because, well, I didn’t have a vehicle to take her home myself.
Finally, Martin returned with a fully-functioning Amelia the Minivan, carrying in boxes of pizza for dinner, too.
Ashley returned with my car and my keys, surmising that the keys fell out of her bag as she walked to the interview when she pulled out her umbrella because, you know, freezing rain.
And as I sat down to reflect on how we went from pretty calm to wild crazy circus in the span of an hour, I remembered a similar day I blogged about a few years ago.
For today’s Flashback Friday, here’s the entry I wrote about that crazy day.
Because, you know, Mama says there’ll ALWAYS be days like this.