Now What?!: Entry 7: Locked out

There are two kinds of people that do stand up: funny people and those that wanted to be musicians but can’t count or keep a beat for shit. I’ll let you decide which category I belong in.

I like having a routine. They say that the reason you walk into doors and walls and stuff like that in a new home is because your body hasn’t formed a sensory memory of the place yet. 

A routine prevents me from walking into mental walls. I’ve been doing my admin first thing in the morning. By 10:00am, I walk around the flat like I’ve got medals pinned to my chest. 

Today I’ve been thrown off my routine as I went to buy groceries and on the way back, realized my flat keys had fallen off the Harry Potter Timeturner  keychain and were nowhere in my bag. Thanks Harry.

I called my out-of-town boyfriend and he tells me, “These things happen, ya know”  “No they don’t and no I don’t. It’s a key CHAIN. The keys are chained to the thing, they don’t just fall off! ”  No one else was in the flat and I didn’t have any of my flatmates numbers. (It’s one of the reasons we get along so well. Email and the occasional chat in the hall suffice)

I waited outside the front door for an hour, emailing my flatmates hoping no one  was on a cheap impromptu September holiday while London’s last bee buzzed around my yellow sweater utterly convinced that my cerebral palsy-tight right fist is a flower. Fab.

This whole time I am berating myself for being so careless.  I’ve never lost my keys before. O.K. there was that one time in university  I threw away my keys along with the contents of my tray in the cafeteria but that was during finals and I hadn’t slept in 24 hours. That was permissible stupidity. This was just a massive waste of time unless beating myself up actually burns calories. If it does, I’ll have to buy a new wardrobe in the children’s section in the morning. 

I’m due for an post-Edinburgh Fringe depression anyway. It was bound to make it’s way here somehow. You can’t live on adrenaline forever.  I’ll just lose myself in a marathon about something really sad like the AIDs epidemic in the 80’s  and shoulder pads.  I am just going to let myself gently bottom out on the sofa  with more than one hot chocolate. I  will just let the groceries stay in their shopping bags a little while longer. It’s fine. The flat is colder than the fridge anyway.