I'd really like to think of myself as a clever, resourceful gal... the type who could take care of herself, if need be. But folks... I'm not. Yesterday, I had a workshop at the Norick downtown library. Mapquest told me it would take 17 minutes to get there. It took 40 because of heavy traffic, so I was running behind when I parked in a behemoth parking garage adjacent to the library. Even so, I thought "I better write down the number of my parking spot so I don't get lost." I did, and then ran in for my meeting.

When the meeting let out, I parted ways with new friends and proceeded to try and find my car, which was located in lot 3E, number M28 (in yellow paint!). Very long story short, I didn't realize that there were actually four segmented, multi-tiered parking lots, all with different number-paint color-lettering systems, so for 45 minutes, I walked around (in high-heels, with my laptop) in a creepy, dank maze of parking garages trying desperately to find my car. When I finally found the PT, I was so relieved I thought I would cry. I pulled out of my parking space and drove to the exit to pay, where they looked at me like I was nuts when I handed over my Visa. They didn't accept credit cards. The thousands of people parked in the garages actually carry cash around with them! Then, I really did almost start to cry. The parking attendant took pity on me and gave me a form to fill out promising to mail in my payment to the parking company.

I was so dejected from my experience that all I wanted was to go home and put on my pjs and sit on the couch with my husband and Tino. I even skipped yoga!

So that's me- the kind of adult who gets hopelessly lost and doesn't carry cash and let's my car run out of gas.