Tuesday was the first time I'd commuted from the burbs to Boston in a while. Previously I lived four minutes from my office. You can imagine how convenient that was. Forget lunch at home? No worries! Hop in the car and be back to your desk in less than 10. Oversleep because you were up until 4am rooting on the Red Sox with a guy who's name you think was Ted? No problem! Run a brush through your hair and be at the office in 5 minutes.
No more of that tom-foolery for me. With a looming 35-40 minute drive I need to be prepared. I'm talking clothes picked out the night before and three alarms set to go off promptly at 7:30.
So in the morning I woke up, did my thing, drank my OJ with ice and packed my car. I was acutely aware that I had my red Longchamp bag containing my work laptop and notebook in my hand and that I placed it in my car. I saw with my own two eyes that the red bag was in my trunk. But while I was tooling down I-95 N, I started to get snervous and think, "Oh dear God. Did I really put my bag in the trunk? Am I SURE?????? What if I didn't and I only imagined that it was in there. Or what if it fell out?! What if I get all the way to Boston and my laptop isn't THERE???!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I looked to my right and cut across three lanes of traffic, skidding to a stop in the breakdown lane. As various trucks with Wide Loads whizzed by me I kicked open my door and stepped one distressed brown leather bootie-clad foot onto the gravel. I teetered to the back of my already popped truck and my eye immediately went to the red bag that contained my lap top.
Phew.
For good measure I opened it up JUST to make sure that the laptop was in there.
It was.
I teetered back to my drivers side door and slid in, right before I got a honk from one of those huge 18-wheelers.
I made the horn honking motion -arm at 90 degree angle, hand balled into a fist, move angled arm up and down like you're honking a horn- for fun.