As many of you have heard, either because I’ve been coughing down the hall or because you’ve emailed, I have been sick. We all got through the big charity event on Saturday (which turned out well, I think), and then promptly collapsed. I’ve been philosophical about it. I’m going home for the holidays next week, so I’m glad that it is not starting as I’m getting myself onto a plane. Last week would have been a disaster. So, all in all, I’ve accepted this with only slightly more complaint than a normal week—ok, that’s a little bit of a lie because I have been whining quite a bit.
I’m not good as a sick person. I’m not one of those people who really likes a lot of nurturing attention when I’m sick. In fact, I’m more like someone who needs to find an empty cave (aka my tiny, dark apartment) and lick my wounds.
I’m also impatient which makes me an even more delightful companion—unless you actually enjoy hearing how someone’s skin hurts and then you might actually find me quite charming. I have things to do, and I have no time for sick, so occasionally, I like to pretend that I have freakishly gotten over the illness in record time.
Yesterday was one of those special pretend days.
I had to go to the store. Despite the fact that I still had a fever and had just woken up from what turned out to be a 15 hour “nap”, I decided that I just had to convince myself that I was fine and get on with it.
So, I got in the car.
Dumb. Very dumb.
I got to the store without incident. I went in, got my stuff without major drama. Technically speaking, I realized that I didn’t have to go out at all because I remembered that I had already bought the thing I was looking for, but that’s not important. Now I have two.
And then I went out to my car—and noticed that it was still running. And that the keys were, obviously, still in the ignition. But the good news is, the doors were totally locked so no one could steal it.
I swear to you, I just stood there and looked at my running car completely perplexed; as though someone else had committed this act of colossal stupidity on my behalf. I looked around. No one else seemed to be stepping forward to take the blame. And I just stared at it.
Another piece of good news—I never replaced the hardtop on the jeep after it was stolen, so it is a soft top. The bad news is because the back was locked down and still full of stuff from the charity event, getting in the back was not going to happen easily. So, I very calmly, in what I am now calling a walking sleep coma, unzipped the side window.
All good right?
Yeah. Have you seen a jeep? Or better yet, have you seen me? I’m not quite 5’3” tall. The top of the tires are above my waist. So, here I was—apparently completely loopy, with a bag in my hand with stuff I didn’t need (because it would have made sense to put it down) essentially climbing my mountain of a car. The challenge doesn’t stop there because it was a back window and there is a support bar that runs across that window. Not a problem. Apparently, sleep coma girl was very flexible. I managed to angle my body above the bar, then twist and then pull my legs into the car where I very properly shut off the ignition, grabbed the keys, and unlocked the door (admittedly, there was about a minute there where I was hanging and wiggling both inside and outside the car). I continued in my “everything is fine, nothing to see here” fashion into the front seat, out the front door, so I could then re-secure the window…. still holding the bag.
Needless to say, I drove home very slowly, and did not try again until this morning. And yes, I checked, the car is off, and I have my keys.
I think we can officially declare me awesome in every possible way.
Hey, at least I didn’t text message the Ex this time.
Kate, still coughing, but on the mend, in LA
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