Real Woman of Genius: How to go to work

It's happened. I have to "out" myself. I knew I wasn't immune to "genius" status when I mentioned my husband's previous oopsie moments: how to keep a floor clean & how to rent movies.

Monday, I racked up some serious genius points. Here's the lowdown:

6:50 AM: Load car with diaper bag, work bag, and laptop while Noah scarfs down buttered toast and fruit.

6:55 AM: Grab Noah, walk down the staircase, twist the handle lock on the basement door, pull it behind me. Pause as something nags the back of my mind... but since I'm still slowly pulling...Click. "CRAP!!"

6:56 AM: Realize that my house keys and car keys are in the kitchen. Stand in garage with regretful look on face.

6:56:30 AM: Buckle Noah in car seat so I can think properly.

6:58 AM: Consider options.

1) Spare key in garage? Nope. Left it inside the LAST time I locked myself out.

2) Other unintentionally open doors? Run to back door. Nope. Run to front door. Nope. Darn our vigilance!

3) Open windows? Run around house. No, no, no, no, no... uh-uh.

4) Break a window? Nope... I'll call David first. Yes, David to the rescue!

7:01 AM: Dig through purse to find cell phone. Open cell phone and discover it's dead. Remember sadly that the car charger doesn't work unless the car is on (and that I have no car keys).

7:01:30 AM: Cell phone turns on long enough to dial David and for phone to ring once. Dies. Try again. Rings a half-ring and dies. Definitely dead now.

7:02 AM: DAMN!

7:02:15 AM: Which neighbor do I choose first for help? The uncreepy, but partially-handicapped retired folks on our left? Or the absolutely creepy, summer-teeth biker guy who lives to our right? Old folks, definitely old folks.

7:03 AM: Unbuckle Noah and traipse across front/side yards, up the hill, around the small pond and up our neighbor's stoop. Guiltily knock on door since it's BARELY past 7 AM and all normal folks who are retired are probably comfy in their beds. No response. Sigh.

7:05 AM: Take a deep breath and begin the trek to biker dude's house, jumping visibly when his dogs begin an aggressive, warning bark as soon as I near their very long driveway.

7:10 AM: Knock on biker's door. Watch him look out the window. Put on a brave face as he answers the door and I ask to borrow his phone since I've locked myself out of my house.

7:11 AM: Biker guy hands me a 2001-issue cell phone that (praise the Lord!) WORKS! I call David. He doesn't answer. I leave an urgent message. I call back immediately. No answer. As I hang up, he calls back. RELIEF!

7:12 AM: Embarrassed, explain to David that even though he just drove 50 minutes to work and has just started painting, he needs to get in his car and drive back home to rescue me (and Noah).

7:13 AM: Hang up and thank creepy guy. Hightail it out of there.

7:16 AM: Trudge up the deck stairs and deposit Noah anywhere but in my burning arms. Play with Noah as he thoroughly sullies his cute ensemble in the sandbox and in the morning dew in which he's swishing his little arms, legs and heiny.

8:10 AM: David arrives! MY HERO!!! Call babysitter to explain why I'm 25 minutes late... so far, and why I'll be 1 hour, 25 minutes late.

8:30 AM: Kiss hubby goodbye (again), grab my keys, pack up Noah and drive to sitter's house.

9:45 AM: Arrive at work, 1 hour, 45 minutes late.

Genius indeed.