You and me'll get along awhile

2006-09-01 - 11:32 a.m.

I don't have enough nails. Making memories is like taking things and hanging them from nails in a wall. Or more like tossing things at a wall that has nails sticking out of it and hoping some of them will catch and hang. I seem to have fewer nails than most. Most of the things I toss at the wall just fall away. For some reason, I was thinking the other day about how bad my memory is and I was reminded of me as a second grader. My second grade teacher's name was Mrs. Harling. There was also a sixth grade teacher at my school named Mrs. Herning. I think I got all the way through second grade without ever quite remembering whether my teacher's name was Harling or Herning. That can't be normal, can it? Most little kids pick up their teachers' names pretty quickly. At any rate, this makes me feel better in that at least I can say that my memory has always been bad. It's not like it's suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

Speaking of poor memory, I'm not the only one. Lolo and I have opposite schedules this week. I'm OR, he's EOR. So we decided we'd just wait until Friday to get together. Last night at around 7:30 as I was thinking about going to bed (I'm up at 4 for this shift), he called me and asked if I would mind if he came over. That's very unlike him. I told him of course he could come over. I wish he had told me his ulterior motive right then, but instead he left me thinking he either missed me really badly or had a surprise for me. When he arrived a few minutes later he explained that he'd locked his keys in his car. Getting to work late for the EOR shift means that the only spaces available in the parking lot he prefers are valet spaces. He parked in valet parking but then forgot to go out and move his car before the valet parking closed for the night. He said he'd done it once before and they'd put the keys to his car under his floormat. So I drove him to his apartment where an apartment manager let him into his apartment and he got his spare car unlocker beeper doohicky. I drove him back to work where he unlocked his car only to discover that this time they had not put his keys under his floormat. So he ended up staying the night at my place. Poor boy. I was asleep almost before we got there and of course he was still wide awake. I left him my keys so he could let himself out of my apartment after I'd gone to work. Apparently it's all been worked out now, though. All keys have been restored to their proper owners. Phew!

I started reading P.D. James' Children of Men this morning at work on Amazon. It was slow this morning so I read the first 30 pages before Amazon cut me loose. Too bad I don't actually have a copy of this book. The library doesn't have any available either. I guess this calls for a trip to Half Price after work. And if they don't have it, Barnes.