No margin for error!
There are writers who jump on a platform to inform or entertain, while others get on a soap box proselytizing their views on politics, religion, economics, or gender and LGBT equality issues. I tend to divert my attention away from anyone whose mission is to slay and sway.
A sixty-something single who flies solo in my role as quasi caregiver, it behooves me to focus on survival by staying fit and planning for contingencies. The key to survival of the fittest on my terms is not screwing up because there’s nary a knight in shining armor to rescue me.
Hence, the stuff some of my Memoirs are made of! The preface of this one lends itself to Brian Hyland’s “Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini”:
From my apartment to the elevator at the far end of the second floor,
From the elevator down to the first, I wheeled my empty grocery cart to my vehicle in the parking lot.
From tapping the remote button on my key to lift the rear gate, and placing the cart in the cargo area,
Walking from the cargo area to open the passenger door and getting behind the wheel, ready to put the key into the ignition so I could move my vehicle to a lot closer to the side entrance of my building,
There wasn’t any more—key!
You can imagine my chagrin! The frantic search of the interior began for a key attached to a conspicuous, neon orange, flexible plastic key chain coil. Nowhere to be found, I hurried back to the apartment to fetch a spare key from my handbag. (Actually, the original which was found in a melting snow pile last year by my neighbor, a considerable amount of time after it must have fallen out of my coat pocket when brushing snow off my SUV).
Sprinting from my apartment to the stairs at the far end of the second floor, down to the foyer on first,
From the foyer to the parking lot.
I used the spare to reopen the cargo area, thinking the key might have slipped out of my hands. Nope! After moving my vehicle, I went inside the building to alert the office manager about my missing key and the bizarre circumstances of its disappearance. Panicking that something “paranormal” occurred because I’d undergone a Mr. Magoo moment, I hightailed it out of there to resume the search once more.
From the office to the foyer,
From the foyer to the walkway leading to the other lot, I arrived at my vehicle.
This time around I crouched on my hands and knees along the back floor, snooping under the seats. Lo and behold, I espied the orange key coil under the passenger seat. How the key could have landed there is beyond me!
From the lot to the building,
From inside the building to the office again.
This harrowing episode held the key for opening my eyes wide to awareness through diligence and vigilance without letting my guard down.
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My partner and my tenant both seem to have the tendency to misplace things like keys/money/documents/etc. My partner is want to blame someone else immediately. Often, her lament is that, "(He/She) stole it!" It seems that she never makes a mistake and it must have been caused by he/she because they were in the vicinity recently and must have either appropriated or misplaced the valuable whatever that was now lost/stolen as a result of their misbehavior!
Shortly thereafter, and usually within a day. The mysterious lost item appears. Either in a place that was already searched or one that wasn't thought of. Fortunately, those blamed for the atrocity were not told about it so apologies are not required. ;-)
Ron