The clock read 1:50pm. I had just enough time to zip across town to make it to my checkup.
I had been working on this since March. I wanted to avoid taking high blood pressure meds, so my doctor asked me to lose 25 pounds. I was 1.8 pounds away from that goal. I was exercising regularly and had also changed my diet drastically, so there was a very good chance I was going to beat the system.
I felt happy and relaxed despite my upcoming TSA experience with a grown man wearing gloves. Actually, I was trying very hard not to think of that part.
Calm.
Calm.
I know he's gonna be checking my prostate, but REMAIN CALM!
Alright, fine. I was relaxed physically, but mentally I was wound tighter than a yo-yo. That's probably why I messed up my usual routine.
Put on coat.
Put on shoes.
Walk through door.
Close and lock door.
Pat down for keys.
Whoops.
So now I'm sitting by my minivan awaiting my sixth grader's return home. I'm locked out of both my minivan and my house. Fortunately, it is a warm, gently breezy day. I've read some news, looked over my novel, and resisted the urge to delete it all as a pile of hopeless dreck. I've even rescheduled my appointment for next month which gives me some time to get rid of that last pound and 8/10ths.
Most of all, I have remained calm. And, more importantly, I have planned how I'm going to save face.
When my daughter returns home, I will duck down, let her open the door, then I'll "show" up a few minutes later and pretend I'd just arrived home. It's a perfect plan, assuming she's remembered her key and doesn't wonder why the minivan was already in the driveway.
Let's just keep this a secret between you few thousand readers and myself, alright?
