Okay, it goes like this - this week we (my local town society) are performing Mozart’s Magic Flute, and we go out for meals after every show (despite the fact that I can’t really afford to, but I did lay some laminated flooring for a friend in order to pay for the meal - a long story which I won’t bore you with in this thread since I would like to whinge about something completely unrelated). Where was I? Oh, yes - so, I’ve been out in town since the show finished, and am quite happy, having imbibed of the demon drink fairly freely and have procured a lift from the same person who drove me to drink (insert the usual quote from W.C.Fields here).
I’ve just got back from the aftershow meal (a very nice Italian where they let us sing raucously until after we should all have left them in peace) and have been dropped off outside my house. It’s 1:30am and all is quiet, I walk up to the front door waving goodbye to my lift and then reach into my trouser pocket for my keys…
<pause>
…hmmm. I pat my other pockets (all five of them) hoping to find a promising bulge. Not that sort of bulge, you innuendo-ridden sniggerers, but the bulge caused by a set of keys. Nothing.
There’s less metalwork in my trousers than there is in my face.
Right. So, it’s half one and I have just found out that I left my house keys in the dressing rooms of the theatre. Oh…dear.
Okay - what can I do? Walk round to a friend’s house and hope that they are still up (having attended the same meal as myself) ad then sleep on their floor? I doubt that would work - plus it wouldn’t put me in their good books.
What if I sleep in my car? No good there, the damn thing is still in the garage, having its leaking clutch patched up for some vast sum of money.
I know, I could go in to work and spend some time writing that paper I need to finish, after all I have my passcard in my wallet.
Yeah, that sounds like a good idea - with the additional bonus that I can grab a cup of tea from the coffee room whilst I’m in there. Sorted!
So, I walk to my office (luckily situated about 5 minutes away from my house - the benefits of foresight when house-hunting), and get inside. Go to the lift and press the appropriate button for my floor.
<cue elevator music>
<tap foot impatiently>
Exiting the lift I walk towards my office door, reaching into my trouser pocket for my keys…
…
Spot the error here.
Correct - the reason I’m in work at this hour is because I’ve left my keys in the dressing room. There’s not much chance of the office key having fallen off the ring and landed in my pocket, is there? Of course not.
I turn around and walk towards the stairs - a bit of exercise never hurt anyone - and head for the coffee room.
Once there I pour myself a cup of tea and sit down at the public workstation and think of how I can while away the 8+ hours before I can get to my keys.
Sleep? Well, taking into account the fact that there’s nowhere comfortable and that the security guards won’t be that chuffed to see me passed out on the common room floor, I think that there’s little chance of me getting a good night’s rest. That’ll be good for when I go into work tomorrow (at my part-time work place).
Work on my paper? Ah - that relies on me being able to access my PC, which is currently behind a locked door, two floors above me.
Surf the web? Hmmm…it looks like I’ll be reading every conceivable thread on the SDMB before dawn.
Then, as soon as the theatre opens I can rush in to get someone to open the dressing rooms up, thus enabling me to get my keys and rush home. Once home I shall get changed into my work clothes and rush to work…
…wait for it…
…back at the box office of the theatre that contains my keys!
:smack:
[sub]Trust me to be late for work due to having locked my keys in my place of work and thus unable to get home and change into my work clothes.[/sub]
It’s at times like this that I really wish I’d listened to what my mother used to say when I was younger…
PT
