At Least You Can Blog About It

So, here it is a Friday afternoon. I am hosting an Open House for my business and with 5 minutes to go before people start to arrive, the phone rings. It is my husband who had gone to pick up the kids from school. First thing he said was "Take a deep breath and try not to get cross", well that sort of approach is guaranteed to send me from calm to apoplectic in 2 seconds flat. "What happened?" I asked with a considerable amount of trepidation, fearing the worst. He continues "Your daughter locked the keys in the van".  I don't need to detail my exact reply to this news, but I will just say it was at top volume and contained an awful lot of "F" words. My husband then compounds the issue by offering up sympathy for his daughter, because she was embarrassed. Are you kidding me ? Embarrassment will be the least of her troubles. 

So there he is stuck at the school with all three children. Thinking about it now, that wouldn't have been such a bad evening - for me ! But I am frantically trying to determine if I have time to make it to the school with the spare keys and get back home before the first guests arrive. I think I have mentioned before that I hate driving Rob's car, I don't even like climbing in it, never mind driving it. The dashboard has more dials & lights than a 747, I switch on the wipers when I am trying to signal, I can't see the gears without my glasses and whenever I try to adjust the seat, (my legs are longer than his) I either end up with my nose an inch from the windscreen and the steering wheel in my gut, or so far back I can't reach the pedals. 

Thank goodness we are on a first name basis with most of the teachers, because Rob was able to borrow one of their cars - thank you Shari - and return home to get the keys. Meanwhile Lindsay who has now arrived at Zach's house, started texting me apologies, which I don't see because my idiot husband has taken my phone, and proceeds to text her back that "I'm" not cross,  etc, etc. That man has a death wish.  

It is only when Lindsay arrives home, and starts to apologise in person that I find out the real truth - not only had she locked the keys in the van, but she had left the engine running too. WTF? The loud alarm that goes off when you open the door to indicate the keys are still in the ignition wasn't a clue - to either of them ?  Lindsay, who was obviously no longer feeling contrite about all this, offers up  "At least you can blog about it!".