The wrong keys

Yes, it truly is no fun running out of the apartment after 1:00 am with the wrong keys.  Once upon a time, a long time ago, even before cell phones, I took one of my former dogs out for his late night walk, a bit later than usual, around 1:30.  It wasn’t until I got back to the outer door, that I realized that I had my car keys, no wallet and not even a quarter in my pocket. It was midweek.  I went outside and checked to see which apartments had lights on so I could get someone to buzz me in. Now it was a little after 2:00.  All the lights were out.  All I had was my dog and my car keys.

Well I had one safe haven left to me, my car.  Luckily the remote to the building’s garage was with my car keys.  I got in, walked down to the sub basement level of the garage imagining that the murderer/rapist was hiding somewhere waiting for an unsuspecting woman to walk in alone.  I made it to my car, jumped in with my dog, locked the doors and put the car seat back as far as it would go.  That way the murderer/rapist would not be able to see me in my car.

Luckily, my best talent is that I can sleep, no matter where, no matter what.  I shut my eyes.  The next minute the clock said 7:30.  I joyfully walked back up the back up the ramps, thankful that I had survived, and hoping the doorman wouldn’t see me coming out of the garage.  He didn’t.  He just said “early walk?” as we rushed past him.

So I totally understood Claire’s situation.  I was just sorry that she didn’t have a garage she could have gone to.