Dude, Where’s My Car?
I thought that the day was going fairly well for a Monday until, after the usual 15-minute trek to the Contractor parking lot at Great Big Company, I couldn’t find my car. Granted, I am notorious for misplacing small items–eyeglasses, pens, keys, my other shoe–but there aren’t that many purple Saturns in the lot on any given day, and a car is a fairly large item.
Mind you, the lot is bigger than a football field–probably bigger than four football fields. On the other hand, it was well over half empty. I wandered around for another fifteen minutes, keys in hand, hoping desperately for either a glimpse of my car or manna to sustain me.
For a while there, the manna seemed far more likely. I was reduced to calling the car by name (Priscilla) and hoping it’d honk back at me.
As it turned out, I had forgotten that I’d gotten there early enough to get one of the really good spaces, and had gone so far past my car that I had no chance of seeing it until I started my trudge to the Security office, to make sure I hadn’t been towed. Nestled among two truly massive suburban assault vehicles and the largest pickup truck I’ve ever seen, was Priscilla.
I feel as though I have gone up a level in my Lose Things skill.
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