I am a Don Lock


Me, anxious?

What follows is an account of my morning so far. It is funny. I know I’m not laughing, but it really is humorous. I know I’m cowering in a corner of the couch, arms cradling my head in the crash-landing position, but the cue cards say “LAUGH”, so please oblige me.

Returned from France on Saturday, but still going to bed early. Last night managed to stay up until 9. Read one — two? — paragraphs of a Sherlock Holmes story as a somnifer.

E.g., faring better, stayed up to take the dogs out at 10 pm, and this morning after Cuca had been poking at us for an hour, E.g. was ready to rise at 5:30. Fine, I mumbled.

At 6:32, I was feeling refreshed enough to pry open my eyelids. I would get up; have a leisurely shower; make my coffee; read my blogfriends’ stuff; think of something to write; say goodbye to E.g., who’s off to New Brunswick to visit her folks for their 50th; and head in to work. “Work” meaning the pet store, of course, the noon to 7 pm shift today.

At 6:33 the phone rang. “HOLY SH%#$$&&&***!!!!!” It was, of course, Jack’s Mom, wondering whether I’d forgotten to show up at their place. We had spoken about it at least three times, and I had written it on the calendar; who could forget a thing like that?

E.g. took the phone call while I was diving into dresser drawers. She assured Jack’s Mom I’d be right over, and Jack’s Mom said fine, she was off to the airport.

That was when I remembered that I’d given back the keys to Jack’s place before our vacation, as a security precaution, and hadn’t yet asked for them back. Bloody hell. So I made my coffee and checked two blogs until ten after 7, and started phoning Jack.

Unlike our message service, which kicks in after a measly three rings, Jack’s phone sounds ten times before his piping, cheery voice announces their regrets. So the phone rang 30 times before I left home. I took Cai with me for the five-minute walk to Jack’s housing co-op.

While I was punching “Shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits” on the intercom, some nice lady exiting the building let Cai and me in. The door buzzer having been entirely ineffectual, I started in on the metal door knocker. Another co-op member came down the hall with his dog for morning walkies, and Cai and resident doggy barked and whined in greeting. Fifteen feet on the other side of their apartment door, Jack could hear neither buzzing nor barking nor whining nor clacking nor knocking nor calls of “Jack, it’s me!”

I don’t know what finally got through — probably a robin outside his window — but eventually Jack let us in. He breakfasted, charged his cell phone, worked out with me how we would handle the rest of the day — I was to meet him after swimming, but of course, I’m working at the pet store today — and packed his lunch in his bookbag. Then he answered the phone.

“Yes, it is now… Yes, she is… Yes, I did… Hold on, Mom, I think she has something to tell you.” He passed the phone to me.

So I explained to Jack’s Mom that I hadn’t yet collected my/her keys from her. And she said… wait for it… “I don’t remember you giving back the keys.”

“I’m sure I did,” I began. “Oh — wait — it was Jane whose keys I gave back.”

After dropping Jack off at the streetcar stop, I went home to look for the insert-choice-word-here keys. And I was right, they weren’t on the dresser. And then I was wrong, they were on the desk.

Jack still doesn’t have his set of keys to our apartment given back to him yet, so after swimming, where I was to have met him but won’t, he’ll meet me at the pet store where I can give him his/our keys so he can let the puppy out because E.g. won’t be here because she’ll be on a plane to Saint John to celebrate her parents’ 50th wedding anniversary.

Let’s just hope I’m working today.

8 Responses to I am a Don Lock

  1. jamesviscosi says:

    Jet lag … it’s all the accursed jet lag …

  2. That was a lot. I had to read it twice. Hope it all works out.

  3. eyegillian says:

    This reminds me of a James Bond movie… well, except in scale and exotic locations, that is. A script-worthy tale of ife’s daily mishappenings trailing behind you like so many broken cookie crumbs — isn’t it amazing how a string of frustrating events can turn into such a good story!

  4. Mutual friend Jane says:

    Must remember to give those keys back….

  5. livingisdetail says:

    How stressful but it all turned out ok. There is something about keys…

  6. lavenderbay says:

    Hi friends,

    Yes, I’m going to blame it on jet lag. My brains are lagging several feet behind my life.

    Thank you for taking the trouble to read my story twice. Maybe I could’ve tried that with my calendar.

    Which movie? “Live and Get Fried”, maybe?

    Hopefully one of us will remember before I’m next needed to catsit.

    I hope you recognized the reference to the old nursery game “Lock and Key”.

    10:15 pm. Cai and Fergus are playing; I’ll tell them to turn off the lights when they’ve finished. Night-night!

  7. Shelley says:

    Sounds like someone else is beginning to feel the effects of the damned “Part-zheimers”. Or maybe I should just blame it on jet lag also?

  8. lavenderbay says:

    Jet lag and menopause are a horrible combination, Shelley! I’m just gonna stay away from the Sometimers for a few more years, I hope.

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