The icing on my cake.

How about a reenactment for you today? A few have asked what got me so down in the dumps yesterday, and while this is only the crowning moment of a spectacularly bad day, it was the only thing I could illustrate very well here.

As any good reenactment should, names and places have been changed to protect the innocent. However, the situation has not been changed to protect the idiot victim. (psst...that's me)

Let's begin.

This is our victim's car in a parking lot.



Imagine, if you will, that this parking lot belongs to a large bulk super-store type place. See? There is the entrance right there.



Also, lets imagine that this parking lot is much larger with quite a few more cars in it.



And yes, they DO all look the same.

Shove it.

So there our scene is set.

Picture in your head a beautiful sunny afternoon. Our victim had a couple of errands to run and the first one was to check tire prices at this local store. Our victim got into the store before realizing she had forgotten to write down the tire size. And so the victim headed back to her car.



As our victim traipsed back across the parking lot she had no idea what was in store for her.



Our victim hopped in the driver's side seat and popped open the glove box.



After writing down the tire size, our victim neatly put everything back in the glove box and closed it.



Our victim hit the lock button and stepped back out of the car.



As she swung the door shut, the world seemed to slow to a molassian* pace . Something wasn't right.



The door clicked shut and our victim's vision was immediately sucked to the front seat of the vehicle.



What was that in the front seat?

Oh look! You can see me in the reflection! Hey can anyone tell what kind of camera I use?



Oh right. ehem. Sorry, back to our story.



There, lying neatly on the front seat of her newly locked vehicle, were our victim's keys.

Let me repeat that.



Her KEYS.

Please pay no attention to:



Our victim's car get's vacuumed on a regular basis. If by regular you mean biannually.

But that's not the point now is it!?

Let me repeat.



However, this story ends better than it could have. At this point it was very possible for our victim to break down into tears. Or into a raging bout of curses only fit for the saltiest sea dog's ears.

It would have been completely logical for our victim to run screaming around the parking lot like a crazy person.

Or to try and break in the car herself.

Luckily, a hero of a locksmith came to our victim's rescue. And now she owes him a HUGE favor.

*whether or not the word molassian is truly a word or not is beside the point. So you just hush. You knew what I meant.