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Stuck!

Here is yet another way I am taking the Kyle Baxter Project to the streets. I am posting from work. Now, before you call my boss and get me fired, let me explain that I am off work. Story time!

I awoke freshly at 6:15 this morning after losing a beloved hour of sleep to what some experts call “Daylight Savings Time”, which makes it sound like a great investment. That’s like calling last year’s stock market conditions “Free Money for Everyone”. Anyways, I dressed for work and headed out the door.

My wife and I are down to one car at the moment, because our brakes are getting changed in our other car over the weekend. I’m now kicking myself squarely in the right cheek for not remembering to take a HOUSE KEY with me when I handed my keys over to my wife for the day. This is called “foreshadowing”, where I hint at future events through a tiny detail. Apparently I’m not very good at foreshadowing, because I think you know where this is going.

As you should all know, my wife is an amazing photographer, and is always in demand. You can find her website HERE. Feel free to book her services. Giving her money to take your pictures is just another way you can indirectly support the Kyle Baxter Project (because I take all her money and give her a $20/week allowance). I know you’re thinking, “Is he kidding?” Moving on. . .

She is out working as I type, with my KEYS in tow. (I really need to practice my foreshadowing. Any tips?) I had a non-memorable day at work, which would otherwise lead to a mundane evening. Because I have kind co-workers, my boss gave me a ride home at around 4:15. I reached my house shortly thereafter, and as I approached the door, my heart sank into my guts, and splashed loudly in my stomach. I had NO HOUSE KEY. (didn’t see that coming, did you?) I think I might have given myself some sort of reflux.

If it were possible that I could have formed a HOUSE KEY out of sheer willpower, it would have materialized in my wallet that instant. Though I knew I no longer carried a spare HOUSE KEY in my wallet, I still dug for one like a dog digging for the neighbors’ pet rabbit remains a week after the funeral (complete with shoe box casket and sappy eulogy). Though I knew I didn’t have a key, I still looked. Why is that? It’s human nature, I suppose. It’s like when someone asks you if you have a lighter, you always pat your pockets, even if you don’t smoke. Then you shrug as if to say, “Man, the one day I go out without my lighter . . .”

It goes without saying that no spare key was in my wallet. My boss was patiently waiting in his car as I told him I was going to check my back door, in case I forgot to lock it yesterday. I never forget to lock my back door, but if I could’ve conjured up enough mind power to move the lock-thingy (and that’s a technical term) and my door stick (that’s an original phrase, and don’t you steal it), it would have flown open with a mighty rush. I kept putting off teaching my cats how to unlock the door, and now I’m paying for it. Let this be a lesson: do not be a procrastinator like me.

As I walked through my fence’s gate, I wished I had, for once, failed to lock my back door properly. I would have been just as happy to see the door wide-open, and several of my possessions missing, I was so desperate. I wouldn’t care if the bandits had taken my TV, refrigerator, computer, bed, underwear, or Louie (nothing against him, but if they had to take a cat, I would hope it was Louie, because his vet bills are piling up faster than Rocco’s).

Sadly, all my stuff is still in my home. (For some reason, that doesn’t sound right.) I did, however, have two cats staring back at me through the glass, looking lonely and hungry. They also looked slightly perplexed as to why I would be by the back door and not the front door, as always before. I vainly attempted to motion to the cats how to pull the Door Stick®™ out from its place, but lacking opposable thumbs, they decided to just sit there and stare at the leaves in the tree behind me.

Defeated, I walked back through my gate and to my boss’s car. Thankfully, he let me back in instead of laughing at me as he drove off, leaving me to cry on the curb and stare at my cats through the “just close enough to see inside, but not close enough to be inside my warm house enjoying my stuff like food, TV, and London Philharmonics DVD collection” sliding glass door.

The car ride home was a little awkward, I admit. How do you say, “Hey, sorry I didn’t realize I didn’t have my keys, even though I had consciously given them away previously in the day. I guess I just wanted to interrupt your already hectic day. Thanks for wasting your time on me!” to your boss without sounding pathetic?

Finally, we arrived back at work. He went back to what he was doing, and I sat down at the nearest computer to bring you the newest installment for which your heart has been aching!

I’m throwing this together at a feverish pace before my brother-in-law gets here to take me to sweet freedom. I guess it’s not a total loss. Out of this whole experience, I have gained another post (this one), satiating you for a few more days, until the burden of a demanding public cry for more posts weighs heavy on my shoulders again.

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  1. March 9, 2009 at 8:31 am

    Get one of those “fake rock” hide-a-key thingies. I’m sure all the really good grocery stores carry them. I can pretty much guarantee that this won’t be that last time something like this happens to you. Then, make a couple of extra copies and give one to your brother-in-law, as he always seems to have extra time on his hands.

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