Well, it finally happened: I locked my damn keys in the car. I lost my original set of car keys about four or five years ago in some kind of black hole which appeared in my house just long enough to eat them as I was running late for a doctors appointment. To this day, they've never been heard from again. So I've been using my spare key/keyless entry fob, and every year or so, I think to myself, "I should really make a copy." And of course, I never do because I'm lazy.
Last night I was again running late for an appointment -- this time with my hair stylist -- and I jumped out of my car at the salon, grabbed my purse, grabbed my cellphone, smacked the lock button on the door and slammed it, only to realize at the exact moment the door was slamming that my keys were still danging in the ignition. Fuck!
I don't know what was ultimately more degrading: having to shell out the biggest waste of $65 for the whole three minutes it took the locksmith to open my car door; or having to do so wearing hot pink capris and a button-down shirt with cherries on it, which is a cute outfit for a young looking 30-year-old to be wearing... Unless this 30-year-old had just had her hair cut and styled into a teased bouffant, (I don't know why she still insists on doing that, dammit) in which case, made me look like a young old lady-girl named "Flo."