Remember this day? Yeah, that's happened again. Only a little worse. This time, my keys fell out of my pocket at some point during the 4-k trip from the university to my apartment. It was already 5 at this time, with daylight quickly fading, so I'm not going to be seeing those suckers again. And now that it's nighttime, I need a place to stay until the morning when (knock on wood) my landlord will receive my frantic, self-flagellating email and take pity on this poor tenant. The only friend in town I know well enough to ask for a place to stay is currently out of town (note to self: make more friends), so it's bad luck on all fronts.
And for those who are comparing this to the last horrible occurrence, this is the part last time around when I became full of self-doubt and other unpleasant sentiments, wondering if I do this sort of thing to myself on purpose. And I'll admit, I went there this time too, briefly. But I got over it. I was swearing, and sulking, and generally making the other people on the sidewalk take the long way around, when suddenly it hit me: this sort of thing really does happen to me all the time.
So why should I make a big deal out of it?
There are a few good things about this, after all. One: I can be grateful that I didn't go through with my plan to put my memory card on my keychain (I thought it would be easier to keep track of that way. Ironic.)
Two: this time, I managed to safely lock my bike up in my office, so I don't have to worry about it being stolen. (Granted, that means I'm locked out of my office, but if life gives you lemonade, there's going to be some lemons.)
Rather than sulk and moan, I should embrace the circumstances. I've full access to my bank account, warm clothes, an ID, and a bookbag full of students' papers. (Ok, that last one is not proving useful.) There's a campus full of nooks and crannies to situate oneself in for an evening, and, thanks to a library that doesn't close till 11, I've got some good reading material (Iain Banks, Anthony Burgess, and, since it's an evening for risks, the complete short stories of JG Ballard, whom I have never previously heard of). (There's also a whole string of bars nearby, but somehow getting drunk with strangers and no means to get someplace safe after is a little TOO adventurous, know what I mean?)There's an adjacent 24-h convenience store, and now I've got a pack of 32 vanilla wafers for the amazing price of $1.49. Hello, supper!
So yes, come tomorrow there's going to be some trouble with a poor night's sleep, department keys that need replacing, a body in need of a shower, and clothes in need of changing, and if I DON'T get ahold of my landlord, the weekend is going to be not-so-great, but for now...
Now is good.