I spent a majority of Saturday turning over a new garden. I finished around 3:30, and happy with myself for actually completing a gardening project before September comes, I felt the need to celebrate with a glass of wine. But I wanted white, and there was not a drop to be found in the house. So, in a filthy Fenway Park t-shirt and cutoffs c. 1988, along with dirt all over my hands, face, and legs I hauled my tired butt into Jay's car and headed over to the packy (my car is getting almost un-drivable--if there's another car available, I'm all over it). Seriously, I have no shame. I looked about as bad as it gets, but happy hour was calling my name.
Once at the package store and my mission completed with wine in hand, I headed to back to the car. When I got in, I noticed on the passenger seat a slip of paper with some woman's name and address on it along with a printout for some type of dinner benefit. I hadn't noticed it before, and I began to wonder who had the nerve to open the door of another person's car and put something in it? Then I noticed a wallet in the middle console. I picked it up and then the red warning lights started flashing in my head. Oh, crap, I was in the wrong freaking car! In a blind panic, I threw the wallet down, grabbed my own wallet and my bag o'wine (so I thought) and beat it out of there, ran to my car and got in, talking out loud to myself the whole time, saying something like, "omigodomigodomigodomigod!" Then I looked over at the seat next to me in my car and realized I had grabbed the other person's bag of groceries along with my stuff. All I could think was, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! Then, just as I was heading back to the mystery car to return the stolen bag of groceries, the owner of that car came out of the store and headed to her car, the same time as me.
At this point, all I could do was shrug and think, "Waddaya gonna do?" In my best attempt at trying to be as carefree as I could about the situation, I told the woman that she was going to think I was a complete lunatic (and let's remember how spiffy I was looking), but that I had accidentally gotten in her car, and then in a panic to leave had grabbed her grocery bag. It was my lucky day. She was laughing as I apologized profusely and then skulked away, tail between my legs and my face a perfect shade of crimson under the layer of dirt.
If I had taken my dented red Subaru, this never would have happened because no other car looks like that puppy. Black cars are just too damned confusing!
|What Jay's car looks like.|
|What my car looks like. No questioning the difference!|
OK, I've put it out there and hopefully I'll stop groaning every time I think about what an idiot I can be. Until the next time.