Friday, August 29, 2008

Lost and Found

School is off to a great start, and ChellBell is excited about the year. She has great new clothes, a fancy back-pack with wheels that light up, and some shoes that even I might try to fit into. And she's vowed to be a straight-A student this year (I wonder if she's just an over achiever, or she likes how we buy her stuff when she gets good grades -- not that I care about the motivation, because all Harvard will care about is her GPA).

So ChellBell showed up to school this week with everything in place -- lunch box, pencils, folders, and cell phone (discreetly hidden in back-pack). But here's the truth -- she's part of our family, and with that DNA comes the propensity to misplace things.

So all bets are on how long it will take before we make our first trip to the Lost and Found.

Even the thought of an elementary school Lost and Found makes my skin crawl. All those germ-infested sweaters, combs, hair bows, tennis shoes... things that should never be lost, but all make their way to the large cardboard box, in hopes that the person to whom they belong will come to claim them.

I have to tell you that I needed a Big Girl Lost and Found last week. One specifically for brains. I misplaced mine and needed a designated cardboard box where I was sure to find it or a suitable replacement (maybe trade up?). Maybe I'm too busy, or maybe I'm too old, or maybe it's somehow Chris' fault (which is the choice I like best), but lately I'm just forgetful.

Remember the old adage, "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan..." Well, that used to be me, but now I'd either forget to bring the bacon home or forget to turn the stove on while I was cooking.

Clearly a problem.

The worst of it was last week. I went through my very low-maintenance morning ritual and grabbed my work bag, purse, cell phone, suit jacket, coffee, and shoes and ran out the door. I have this bad habit of not wearing shoes out the door in the morning. I just throw them on the floor board and put them on once I get to my parking garage. My shoes are cute, but not necessarily comfortable. So I was having a normal morning -- put my make-up on at stop lights, took a few phone calls, and pulled into the parking garage at 8:12. Just in time to get the computer booted up and start my 8:30 meeting.

Oh, and my boss pulled up right next to me and waved. And waited for us to walk in together.

So I took one last sip of coffee. Threw my jacket on. And went to put on my shoes.

But there were no shoes.

Seriously, no shoes anywhere in my car.

And I panicked, realizing that somehow I had forgotten to grab my shoes.

With my boss standing next to my car waiting for me to walk in with him.

Now kids, I am not an advocate of lying. But at that moment I lied. Because I was NOT going to tell my boss that I did not bring shoes to work. So I rolled down the window and explained that I had gotten there without a cell phone and that I was just going to run home and grab it before the day got underway. Okay, so I lied and I was prideful. And for that I have prayed. But at that moment it seemed like a much better option than walking into the office barefoot with my boss.

I guarantee I will continue to forget things. But I will never forget to wear shoes to work again. I put some under my seat, so there is always a contingency plan...

1 comment:

  1. You know I made it all the way to the Frisco mall one day and then DEMANDED that the kids stop giving me a hard time and return my shoes. Their looks made me realize...they didn't have my shoes. I'd gotten all the way to Frisco without shoes. I could not return home, and David was with us, and he would have been even more angry.

    I guess that's the best time to forget your shoes because as a result, I got a new and very cute pair of black flipflops. David got over his frustration at my forgetfulness,...and the kids have never let me forget the day I went barefoot to the mall. :-)

    Maybe it runs in the family. I am just afraid that one day I'll show up at work without shoes and not have time to go home or buy shoes. Then I'll have to teach a college class with bare feet.