I felt uncharacteriscally cheery this morning as I alighted from the Trolley and made my way to work. In the walk from the Trolley to the Office, I alternated between whistling and singing "Angels We Have Heard On High" but got caught up in singing a part to the chorus (that I love in one of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir versions) that I could no longer remember the melody.
That faded when Michelle called frantically looking for her car keys: She was to take the kids to Disney for the Christmas decorations, parade, and fireworks.
As it happened -- and for reasons I positively cannot account for -- I had taken both sets of keys with me to work. Only after our phone conversation did I discover this, and then had to make the despairing call to relay the news.
If we'd been in Irvine still this wouldn't have been but a small annoyance (since I lived across the street from where I worked). Here in San Diego, though, I commute in nearly an hour by trolley. All seemed lost today, and all seemed to be inadvertently my fault. That was a difficult feeling.
Ah, but this story has a happy ending. Sensing that things couldn't possibly be as hopeless as they appeared at first. I wandered in a daze down the hallway in my office and then queried a few colleagues if anything could be done. A friend of a co-worker offered to drive the keys back to our home, and only an hour or so was lost.
Santa must have been watching.
PS--Michelle says the Christmas Parade and Fireworks were well worth the trip.
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