Lost In Space

Today I had one of those stressful afternoons when I needed Butterfly to be home from school with the car right on time, so we could head out and get our hair cut. I also wanted to squeeze in a quick trip to Super Walmart to pick up ingredients to make an appetizer for a party tonight......a crab dip with cocktail sauce on Ritz that tastes heavenly with a dry Chardonnay......but I’ve digressed.

I needed to get these errands done in less than an hour, so I could get back home to prepare Garlic Chicken Breasts for my family’s dinner, throw together the appetizer, iron my outfit and do my makeup for the party. And my hair, because I never like the way they blow dry it at the salon. They make me look like a Country Western Singer; too much poofiness at the crown.

I dropped Rock Star off at Game Stop, then swung by the salon and told Butterfly to start getting her hair cut and I’d be right back after I ran into the store. Super Walmart is the size of an airport, so it took me a little while to find the few items I needed for my appetizer. And I ran into someone I knew, and she was all “gabby”.....and then I got into the checkout line behind the Shopping Cart Piled With Every Item In The Store....so as I walked to the parking lot, I was feeling anxious that I was running late.

And then I couldn’t find my car. I could swear I had parked it in the row across from the Garden Center door! But it wasn’t there. I rewound my brain to 15 minutes in the past. Drove into the parking lot, passed the Garden Center, down the first completely full row, up the second, pulled into the right……but the car wasn’t there. I walked up and down the rows fruitlessly, feeling ridiculous. I was certain people were ridiculing me behind my back: “Look at the stupid lady who lost her car!”

Four minutes later, I realized that I was looking for a silver Grand Caravan when I had actually driven a black Toyota. Another reason for increasing my daily dose of ginko biloba. Feeling foolish, I went back to the second row, now scouting out my Toyota. Not there. Lots of little black sedans, but none of them mine. Up the first row I went, down the second, up the third, and so forth. No success.

Now I was feeling a bit freaked out; the possibility that my car had been stolen crossing my mind like a really slow freight train. Great. Just great. On the night my crab dip needed to be refrigerated at least one hour before the party for it to be flavorful!

And then I saw my license plate. On a Toyota that looked like mine, only was a grayish color instead of black. Oh. Dear. God. I had not recognized my own car because it was dirty. I had passed it in Row #2 a myriad of times for the past 15 minutes, not seeing it because it was covered with the remnants of ice and sludge from my trip to Iowa this past weekend!!

Why can’t they make cars with automatic washers attached, like they do for windshields?? Because, For The Love Of All Things Good And Holy, I CANNOT be late for parties all the livelong winter!