The Forty-Sixth

I am rather scatterbrained. I really try not to be, so most days I assume I've grown out of it, but then there is a perfect storm.

The other night I left my parents' house around 11:30pm, intending to drive home. My dad was watching me from the porch to make sure I got to my (A's) car safe.

Halfway down the driveway, I realized that A had dropped me off, so I was walking towards some stranger's black car.

So then I had to ask my poor father, who was on his way to bed and needs his sleep, if he wouldn't mind suddenly hopping-to and driving me home at 11:30pm. He was very nice about it, and I only live, like, five minutes away.

He dropped me off, and I walked up to our apartment door on the third floor, and I fished around in my ski jacket pockets for my keys. And realized I didn't have them. A had been asleep for at least an hour and a half, and I had to ring that horrid doorbell until I dragged his poor, rumpled carcass out of bed. And then he was so alarmed about where my keys could be that he wouldn't go back to bed.

And 30 seconds into the key location conversation, the doorbell rang again. Thinking I'd forgotten to flash the lights at my dad to let him know I was in safe, I opened the door in a fluster without asking who it was, and it was my mother.

She had noticed my keys on the table by the door just after my father and I left, and, at 11:30pm at night when she was tired and on her way to bed, she had torn out the door, hoping to catch us before I woke up Alex.

So that is the story of how I managed to keep/wake up everybody who loves me the most. For absolutely no reason.

The next day my mother entirely blamed it on the fact that my father never has his cell phone with him.