It started at the gym this morning - miscommunication. Yet at that point it was still manageable. Trainer Ed had left Kim a text "We still on?" Minutes before our 6am appt, Kim received it, ignored it at that point, and then after running into Ed at the gym, realized our plans didn't matter.
Our heinies and other appendages got burned. Ed, full of grins and eagerness to put us to the test, showed us our new routine, which we committed to while huffing and puffing. Ed blew the house down. Lunges, Round the Clock, step ups with weights. While he rounded out the 30 minutes, we discovered new muscles that would ache all weekend. That's when, on Oct. 30, in 57 degrees, I began to experience the snow flakes in the air.
They moved in slowly. The morning business schedule called for phone calls, writing and planning prior to a "power" afternoon of back to back commitments: client, conference presentation and another client while fueling up the Jeep, finding time for banking and buying groceries.
Twenty minutes before my first appt, a cancellation call came in. Okay. That allows me to eat lunch prior to heading out for the conference. And maybe enough time to gas up the Cherokee before the responsibilities kicked in.
Luckily I leave early enough to select a good station on the way, pull up, park and pull out my credit card carrier. Hmph. No credit card. Up to now, I had passed through the last few days needing no cash, and had none with me. A quick glance at my fuel supply tells me I can get to my next appt with some to spare, and still have time to pull into home, rummage through pockets in other jackets worn while out, hoping to find the card I used just three days ago still there.
I drive on, early to my conference commitment, and able to make some calls. Unfortunately all I could do was leave messages to my network, yet I felt productive. My presentation buddies showed up, we ran through our program, and feeling prepared and eager to wow the audience, we moved on to our presentation area only to discover a very small turnout. Well, it's Friday afternoon, when many folks are gearing up for Halloween events, and the trick's on us.
A dozen or so seated themselves in our room while we began the presentation, yet Glinda the Good Witch must have been paying attention, for before we ended, the room was fairly full. Success! I glanced at my watch, saw that although I couldn't yet run home to check on my credit card whereabouts, I was still on time, and flew out to my car. At this rate I could make it to my next appt ahead of time, enjoy the bag of treats we presenters were handed and have time to rinse out my mouth prior to coaching.
I entered the public library, our selected location, and heard "attention patrons, the library is now about to close". Cutbacks meant on Fridays they close an hour early. Crap. Scanning the lobby I notice my companion not yet among us, dig out my parking ticket, rush to the garage, pull out and wait on the side street for my client to show. No luck. I dialed him, left word of the predicament, suggesting an alternative and sit back waiting.
Within a few minutes he calls - "Entering your number in my phone. I'm at the vet with my cat on emergency. Can we postpone?" Hmph. Okay, I think. Now I have more time to find my credit card, get gas, buy groceries and still get home in time to enjoy a few beers while reflecting on this day. We end our conversation and I pull off, heading home.
Parking in our condo's garage, I duck into the mailbox nook, key into our box, and seeing a check for me, decide there's time to run down to the bank before heading off to all the other places. The bank closes in 20 minutes. Everything else I can get to later.
Rushing into our downtown unit, I dig through pockets of jackets worn through the week and finally discover the card. Checking the time I notice 20 minutes is left before the bank closes. Since I'm used to walking to the bank, I know I can make it on foot. I grab my keys, my check and leave my purse and phone behind. If someone wants me, I think, they can leave a message.
I fly through the hall, down the side stairs, out the front security gate and cross the street on my path to cutting through parking lots and alleys while jay-walking whenever I can. The intersection lights are in my favor. I make it to the bank in good time. Laying down my keys, I fill out my transaction slip, eyeball the teller I know and move into place ready to deposit and retrieve some cash - finally.
Making small talk while at the window, I quickly gather up my cash, leave the window and hit the exit while considering whether I will drink a beer before jumping in my car to fuel up and get groceries. Sure! Why not? I race across the street, noticing my shoes are starting to hurt. Terrific Halloween costumes on several adults awaiting the bus distract me, quickly taking my mind off my feet.
For such a day full of possible problems, this day hasn't turned out so bad. And I have cash in pocket! I'm cutting through the final parking lot on my way back to our condo's and it hit me. I don't feel the keys in my pocket. Where are my keys? Up ahead is the security gate. I need the fob on my keyring to get inside. And then, I need our unit key to enter. Suddenly my pace has slowed.
Waiting outside the gate for someone to enter takes me 20 minutes. And although we're lucky enough to have a concierge inside who can assist the residents (I'm hoping he can key into our unit), he is nowhere around. His cell phone number is posted at his office, yet I don't have my cell. It's time to sit down. Just sit down and wait. A blister had formed on my left heel, for in the gorgeous weather my feet swelled, rubbing against the back of my shoe. It's now seaping. Gross. As though I needed something else to focus on. While the delay took hold of me, I realized my day has now ended. I will be going nowhere - no gas station, no grocery store, nowhere.
After 15 minutes the concierge arrives - Con, who is Irish - and tells me he was watching me on the monitor, wondering why I was sitting outside. I close my eyes, shake my head and ask, "Will you please let me into my place?" "Of course!" he bellowed. Upstairs we trudged, and while Con told me of his day's maladies, I kept moving down the hall anticipating the one remaining Blue Moon in the refridgerator. Darn. That's going to have to do for now. Without my keys, I can't pick up more at the grocery, and my heel is too sore to walk to the carry out.
Tomorrow is Saturday, October 31. Today was full of tricks. Tomorrow better be full of treats!
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