Stupid.
Let me tell you a story. It's called, "Seriously, Haley?" or maybe, "A Bra is Not a Reliable Place to Store Things," though that might get to the point a little too quickly.
One of our house's flaws is that there are no sidewalks and the streets are too busy for pedestrian traffic. So when I want to run outside, I drive a couple miles up the road to an elementary school, where there are paths leading back into neighborhoods with plenty of connecting streets. I've plotted a nice little three mile route.
Tonight Clyde and I headed out, Clyde excited to poop somewhere new and me excited about my new running shorts, in which I felt like a Real Runner. It's important to feel like a Real Runner even when your running pace is equal to that of an elderly woman with a walker.
As I locked my car door, I realized that, crap, these shorts did not have pockets. Who makes running shorts without pockets? No problem -- I'll just stick my car key in my sports bra.
In my mind there was a voice saying, "Haley, this is stupid. You're going to be running around and it's going to fall out." I ignored the voice.
So, yes, I ran around and it fell out. And yes, we can agree that that was stupid and I should have known better. But that's not really the end of how stupid I am.
After digging around in my bra -- in a very proper and ladylike manner -- and not finding my key, there was lots of panicking and self-recriminations / abuse. Seriously, Haley? Didn't you tell yourself this would happen?
I paced in a small circle in front of my car, considering what to do next. Should I hide behind my car and take off my bra just in case the key was in there somewhere and I'd missed it? Should I walk towards home and wait until Michael is home from work to help me look?
I was going to have to retrace my steps, which in my mind became a gargantuan task. There were several points in the run where I had to move to the grass or to the street to avoid puddles or people. Could I remember where they were or was I going to have to check all the grass and streets, too?
Then there was the point where I had to bend down to pick up Clyde's poop (geez, Clyde) -- could it have fallen out then? Where was that?
And, ugh, Michael's going to ask me where my spare car key is...where is it? I don't even know. What kind of person doesn't keep track of important items like that?
I texted Michael so he could come rescue me and began re-walking my route, the "Seriously, Haley?" rant continuing in my head.
About ten minutes later, I realized I'd been so busy yelling at myself that I wasn't even really looking at the ground. I was. not. even. looking. at the ground.
I turn around to backtrack and lo and behold, there's my key, laying on the cement about 6 feet behind me, right in the middle of the path.
So not only did I lose my key in a way in which I had known I would probably lose the key, but I managed to step right over the key because I was too distracted thinking about how annoying and stupid it was to have to look for the key.
The key was also in a place where I had to have run directly over it about twenty minutes earlier.
That was a long story just to describe my picture of the day. But it also taught you a valuable life lesson that I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have figured out on your own. Don't store things in your bras, kids. Also -- maybe instead of spending all your time beating yourself up for being stupid, you should keep your eyes on the ground and just get going.
Try not to be overwhelmed by my wisdom and depth.
One of our house's flaws is that there are no sidewalks and the streets are too busy for pedestrian traffic. So when I want to run outside, I drive a couple miles up the road to an elementary school, where there are paths leading back into neighborhoods with plenty of connecting streets. I've plotted a nice little three mile route.
Tonight Clyde and I headed out, Clyde excited to poop somewhere new and me excited about my new running shorts, in which I felt like a Real Runner. It's important to feel like a Real Runner even when your running pace is equal to that of an elderly woman with a walker.
As I locked my car door, I realized that, crap, these shorts did not have pockets. Who makes running shorts without pockets? No problem -- I'll just stick my car key in my sports bra.
In my mind there was a voice saying, "Haley, this is stupid. You're going to be running around and it's going to fall out." I ignored the voice.
So, yes, I ran around and it fell out. And yes, we can agree that that was stupid and I should have known better. But that's not really the end of how stupid I am.
After digging around in my bra -- in a very proper and ladylike manner -- and not finding my key, there was lots of panicking and self-recriminations / abuse. Seriously, Haley? Didn't you tell yourself this would happen?
I paced in a small circle in front of my car, considering what to do next. Should I hide behind my car and take off my bra just in case the key was in there somewhere and I'd missed it? Should I walk towards home and wait until Michael is home from work to help me look?
I was going to have to retrace my steps, which in my mind became a gargantuan task. There were several points in the run where I had to move to the grass or to the street to avoid puddles or people. Could I remember where they were or was I going to have to check all the grass and streets, too?
Then there was the point where I had to bend down to pick up Clyde's poop (geez, Clyde) -- could it have fallen out then? Where was that?
And, ugh, Michael's going to ask me where my spare car key is...where is it? I don't even know. What kind of person doesn't keep track of important items like that?
I texted Michael so he could come rescue me and began re-walking my route, the "Seriously, Haley?" rant continuing in my head.
About ten minutes later, I realized I'd been so busy yelling at myself that I wasn't even really looking at the ground. I was. not. even. looking. at the ground.
I turn around to backtrack and lo and behold, there's my key, laying on the cement about 6 feet behind me, right in the middle of the path.
(I artfully placed those two maple seed helicopters in the frame. Just part of my talent.)
So not only did I lose my key in a way in which I had known I would probably lose the key, but I managed to step right over the key because I was too distracted thinking about how annoying and stupid it was to have to look for the key.
The key was also in a place where I had to have run directly over it about twenty minutes earlier.
That was a long story just to describe my picture of the day. But it also taught you a valuable life lesson that I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have figured out on your own. Don't store things in your bras, kids. Also -- maybe instead of spending all your time beating yourself up for being stupid, you should keep your eyes on the ground and just get going.
Try not to be overwhelmed by my wisdom and depth.