D'oh!

I'm convinced that this blog would not exist if I wasn't such a general f@#$-up, on occasion.

Yesterday, I scheduled an 8-mile run in the hours between the conclusion of church (12:30) and the beginning of rehearsal (2:30). Since my rehearsal was in Davis Square, near Tufts University, I decided to drive up and park near the rehearsal site and run in that neighborhood, grateful for the change of scenery.

Important: I had to leave all my belongings in my locked car. Since my bundle-o-keys is substantial, and I didn't want to have that bulkiness in my hand for 8 miles, I removed the Mazda key from the ring, better to carry in pocket. And off I went to enjoy the Mystic Valley Parkway, Arlington Heights, Mass Ave through Cambridge and lower Somerville on a sunny, cool afternoon -- thusly:



This was all well and good. It was a good run. Nine-minute miles, even, which I'll certainly take.

So, I chugged back into my start point and checked in at rehearsal, pulling iPod out of shorts pocket to turn it off, only to realize that my car key, supposedly in same pocket, was no longer in same pocket, or on my person at all.

Dropped somewhere along those 8 miles.

Shit.

Must. Be. Found. Now.

Go.

So I left my start point and backtracked. For 6 miles and 2 hours, thusly:



At least it was a lovely afternoon. I mean, it isn't nearly as enjoyable when walking slowly with head down, scouring among the acorns and leaves and cigarette butts and pebbles, trying to remember if I ran on the sidewalk or the street and if so, which side of the street, and when I crossed Highland Ave not at the crosswalk, exactly where was that?, and what about that moment I took my iPod out to replay a song, exactly where was that?, and wondering if the kid on the trike I passed on Cherry Street maybe saw the key and thought it would be fun to play with .... and on and on.

By the time I re-hit the Alewife Brook Parkway my feet were swelling out of my shoe tops, I hadn't had food or water since breakfast, and losses had to be cut. I walked 2 more miles back to rehearsal, asked a cast-mate for $5 to take the Red Line back to Southie to pick up my spare keys .... so I could take the Red Line from Southie back up to Davis and drive the car home.

The time was now 7:30 p.m. And it was time for a beer.

Here's the best part of the whole sordid tale: back at 2:30, at the moment I first realized the key was lost, our rehearsal's stage manager informed me that, due to a late change in the schedule, I didn't have to be at rehearsal ... at all. There was zero reason I needed to be up by Tufts or in Davis or changing clothes out of my car ... at all.

Hmm. I had not known this.

To this the stage manager replied: "Didn't you get my message? I called you earlier today to tell you not to come."

No, I hadn't gotten the message. I had forgotten my cell phone at home.

D'oh! Indeed.