oops.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret.

I have the tendency to be quite flaky.

Rats. It's not something I aspired to be, it's just something that I deal with. I am ridiculously organized about most things. My bills are paid on time, I never miss work, I can find anything in my house in less than 2 seconds, my closet is sick organized by color, fabric, and sleeve length... But 9 times out of 10 I can't find my keys. Or my cell phone. I forget to lock doors or I flake out on something I was supposed to go do.

I have to write everything down. I live by my day planner. Yes, I still have an old school planner and I will not give it up. I will never make it anywhere if I don't write it down.

Last night I took Lacy running. We went to a neighborhood about 2 miles from our house where it's a bit safer for us to run and not get hit by a car. Important right? I took my key (which is this huge, monstrosity of a thing) and clipped it to Lacy's collar. I do this every time. I don't like having to hold things while I run. So we finish our 3 miles and get back to the car. I bend down to get the key off her collar and it's not there.

Crap.

So we start walking a little bit back to look for it. By this point, I'm basically dragging Lacy to keep her moving. Why don't I just call Mr. Perfect to come get us?

Because I forgot my freaking phone.

Crap.

Mr. Perfect is HUGE on taking your phone with you wherever you go. Or maybe he's just huge on me taking my phone wherever I go since I seem to have the ability to get into "situations".

What to do?!

My poor dog is giving me these huge puppy dog eyes basically begging me to let her lie down. Well she shouldn't have lost my key.

Yep. Blame the dog. Real mature.

So we had to walk the 2 miles home. On one of the busiest, narrowest streets in town. We would sprint down the road when there were no cars coming and then have to jump on to the shoulder when there were cars coming. It. Was. Not. Fun.

I should write a letter to our city about the condition of the side of the roads. I don't know how we didn't get bit by a snake.

Finally, we made it home. What do I see the minute I walk in the kitchen? My phone, on the counter. Mr. Perfect was furious. I was mad he didn't come looking for us.

I have this incredible gift of turning my irrational anger on someone else. Lacy got it the whole way home. Mr. Perfect got it when I got home. See how none of this was my fault?!?

Yea. I know. I really wish things like this weren't the norm for me, but... It should be no surprise that I'm terrified I will completely lose my mind when I get older.

I don't think Lacy will go running with me again for a while. Sorry Lacy. I also think Mr. Perfect will tie my phone on me next time. Poor boy.. I don't know how he deals with me.