the missing keys: a comedy

Last night, at the condo:

Me (grumpy and tired): *can’t find keys in the bag while in the elevator*

Me: *is now grumpier*

Elevator: Ding

Me: *walks to the door of the unit and sets bag on the floor* *practically empties bag* *is still in denial that she has left her damn keys in her damn room*

Me: Damn it.

Me: *knocks on door* *opens cell phone to call flatmate* *cell phone dies*

Me: Fuck!

Me: *remembers landlady’s unit number* *hurries over to this unit*

Guy in the Unit: Yes?

Me: Is <landlady> in here?

Guy in the Unit: Oh. No.

Me: *explains her situation* So you mean she doesn’t live here?

Guy in the Unit: No, she lives in <another unit in another building>. Do you have her number? I can text her. Come in.

Me: *stands around for a bit inside the unit* *which by the way looks better than the unit she rents* *what is up with that?* *aimless chatter* I’ll go knock again and see if anyone answers.

Me: *runs across the floor to get to her unit* *knocks like there’s a fire* *knocks like Marc Nelson is outside and is naked and damn it girls YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS* *runs back to the other unit*

Me: Can I plug in my phone? So sorry.

Landlady: Oh dear, I’m outside! We’ll be at the unit in ten minutes. Can you wait?

Me: *seriously doubts Landlady will be at the unit in 10 minutes* Okay! *calls flatmate* *flatmate answers* Hey, thanks for letting me stay here, there’s someone who can open my door now, okay bye!

Guy in the Unit: Um. Okay.

Me: *runs* *gets inside unit YES!* *meets another flatmate WHO HAS SPARE KEYS TO HER ROOM HALLELUJAH*

Keys: You dumb bitch.

* * *

When I got to the office today, on my table were (1) my mp3 player (2) my two flash drives. I didn’t even know I had left them there. And I even opened my laptop last night to fix this unfinished story (didn’t do it, watched sitcom episodes instead like a responsible writer). Usually my brain goes like this ~ laptop ~music ~ mp3 player ~ flash drives. Last night, nothing.

Me: *sees the stuff left behind* *suddenly experiences delayed panic*

* * *

Gawd, my brain, gawd.

* * *

I have a story that’s done but it bores me and it doesn’t seem to be working, so maybe I’ll spec-ficfy it. Spec-ficfy. Sounds weird.

* * *

The novella/novel moved forward a bit, and then stopped again. Gawd, my brain.


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