Another bus story

This morning I got ready fast. Really fast. I was ready with enough time to catch the early bus. I decided I didn't want to catch the early bus because I didn't want to be early to work. So, I read my scriptures instead and swiped a coat of red nail polish on my nails.

I walked leisurely to the bus stop and put my hands in my pocket. I didn't have my bus card. So I checked in my purse (carefully, didn't want to mess up my nail polish).

No bus card.

It didn't even take me a second thought to turn around and run full speed back home, my small heels clip cloping the whole way. As I ran, I rummaged around in my bag for my keys. (Thank goodness I bought fast drying nail color.) I couldn't remember putting the keys back in my bag after I opened the door yesterday.

Yep, no keys.

I bang on our front door using our brass knocker. No one comes. No one's up.

I run to the back door past the ladies chatting while their dogs sniff around in our foliage, hoping the backdoor is somehow open. Maybe Steph left through the backdoor for work?

Not open.

I call my sleeping roommates. No answers.

I run back to the front door. Back past the ladies and their sniffing dogs, and bang on the door some more and this time less gingerly, with more venem.

Holly opens the door just as I'm lamenting to the ladies and their dogs about having forgotten my bus pass and my keys to boot.

I sprint up the stairs two at a time, my skirt hiked up to my thighs, to my room, grab the coat I wore yesterday, and tucked inside the front right pocket is my bus pass and my keys.

I take off running to the bus stop debating weather or not to try and catch the express or the other bus. But my question is answered for me because as I get there as the bus is pulling up.

It sounds like a Monday morning.

But it's Tuesday.