Several times when I was a kid (and by 'kid' I mean teenager), I'd forget my keys to the house. I had usually left them in the house without knowing it. I would arrive on the doorstep of my parents' house after school and start digging through my bag, sometimes emptying all the contents before resigning myself. I'd end up across the street at the neighbours'. A few times I was able to slide open the window to my parents' room and climb in. You should be impressed - my parents' room was on the second floor. One time I wasn't so successful and the entire window crashed in. Not such a happy evening for 2D Girl.
Tonight, when I was about 100 yards from my front doorstep, I realized that I'd left my keys in my bike bag at work. I turned around and walked to the park. I called Hubby to let him know. I sat on a bench until I was too chilly and then walked to the Bistro for an espresso.
I sat at the bar, read some neighbourhood news and tried to be patient with a Stella sipping crazy lady two stools away. (She looked perfectly harmless. I am disappointed that my usually fine tuned Crazy-o-metre was on the fritz. Damn you, Crazy-o-metre! Damn you!) If it hadn't been for Crazy Stella Lady, I would have had a fully corrective locked-out-of-the-house experience.