This is Your Brain on Hormones

Tuesday I got a call from the dentist's office confirming Rebecca's appointment. Yes, I said, we'll be there. Now, I already had this appointment on my calendar (because I am organized and way ahead of the game.) But just to be sure, I open my Groupwise calendar to Wednesday, but it's not there (stay w/me.) So, I enter the appointment for 3, and tell Rebecca when she calls me that I'll be picking her up right after she gets of the bus the next day to get to the appointment on time. Then, being ever efficient, I email my co-workers and tell them I'll be leaving early on Thursday (seriously, stay w/me) to take Rebecca to her appointment.

So, yesterday, at about 2:30, I remember I'm leaving at 3. I leave here and arrive home just after Rebecca. I am proud of myself for the good timing. We even stop to give the lab across the street treats and check the mail.

On the way to N. Stafford going north on Route 1, I see a school bus stopped on the opposite side. I slow down, trying to remember if I am supposed to stop on a four lane highway when headed in the opposite direction. A few blasts on the bus's horn tell me, yes, I am supposed to stop, but at this point I'm abreast of the bus and drive on, muffler tucked between my tires. Then we encounter dark clouds and the subsequent large drops of rain. Wipers are now going full on fast.

We arrive at the dentist and I am able to secure 'princess parking.' We dash to the door...but it's locked. What?! Wait, maybe they moved, I mean, the last time we were here they had experienced major flooding from burst pipes. But why didn't Mary mention this when she called me on Tuesday...? I have my phone out, it's ringing, we're still standing in the rain. Mary's voice thanks me for calling Dr. Rai's office, and tells me their office hours. Closed on Wednesdays. I look at Rebecca: Crap, the appointment is tomorrow.

Okay, regroup (I'm good at this part): traffic was looking bad going south, so I suggest we head to Kohl's, do a little shopping (she for unmentionables, me for a new purse...another entire adventure in and of itself.)

Fast forward. We've just spent $80 or so on Rebecca, and nothing on me (me and purses, it's ridiculous) and are walking out the door. Can't find my keys. This is nothing new. I look again, no keys. I'm certain I've left them in the dressing room (no, I don't try on my purses, at least not in the dressing room, but I did try on a couple of...oh, never mind, it's irrelevant and was a disaster.) Anyhow, no keys there either. A bit of panic at this point; Rebecca asks if she can check my purse, and I let her because this has worked in the past. No luck. So now, we're retracing our steps through rows of panties, bras, camisoles, purses, and belts. Looking high and low, and wishing ever so much Rebecca was a toddler again so that she could have that optimal vantage point. Nothing. No keys. I tell everyone I see in the aisles that we're looking for keys. They all respond with the same knowing nod and sympathetic gaze.

We go out to the car...maybe in our haste to dash through the rain...but no; the car is unlocked, and I'm able to retrieve my cell phone, but no keys. So now we're going back in to look again amongst the lace and leather. We overhear a conversation at one of the checkout counters...someone has lost some keys. Ridiculous, I think. A couple is standing there looking befuddled -- they have been looking for over an hour for a set of keys. What are the odds? We wish each other luck, and go our separate ways in our searches.

After no luck again, we go back to customer service. No keys have been turned in; I give a description of my nondescript keys and my cell number. We head back to the car to look again for what I know is not there. Halfway to the car, I hear a woman calling, "I found your keys! You must have been using the cart I have, they were in the bottom!" She was oh so proud, and had abandoned her cart at the checkout counter to run after us. "Oh, thank you so much, but those aren't our keys...but I think I know whose they are." Crestfallen, she hands me the keys. I thank her again, saying the couple will be so relieved and I will turn them in. She walks back in with us, and I thank her yet again. I feel so bad that I've disappointed her.

As we arrive at customer service, I see the couple and hold up the keys. Oh, they are so happy! They thank me and thank me. I've done nothing, really. Then she tells me in a lilting Carribean accent, "I pray for you to find your keys too!" We smile and say goodbye, united by our recent loss and her more recent reunion.

Finally, I cave and call my friend, my hero, Lois. She has a key to the house. No problem, I'll just come pick you up, I'm on Route 3 now. Well, I say, I'm in N. Stafford. Oh... So, Lois heads to my house, I walk her through the possible places where the spare keys might be, and soon she shows up, my spare keys in hand, and saves our day.

This is my brain on hormones. Today, at 3 p.m., I will leave work and go pick up Rebecca after she gets off the bus, and we will head to her dentist appointment. Pray for me.