Picking up from yesterday –
The night before meeting Hillary Clinton, I was staying at my friend’s apartment. He’s out of town and lives really close to work (which makes my life a whole lot more convenient). He asked if I would move his car for him (for street cleaning days) while he’s away. In return, I get to have the easiest commute ever and feel like a tiny adorable princess in his awesomely oversized giant furniture.
So, I put a bag together of everything I’d need for these three days I’m at his place. We had a late-ish night at work. It wasn’t super late, but the last few of us who walked out together were practically the last people to leave the building… I didn’t realize ’til I got to my friend’s apartment that I’d forgotten my bag of clothes at work!
Now, usually, what’s the big deal about this? Just go back to work and get your clothes. Especially since I’m staying so close to work (a 10-minute cab ride is the quickest way to get here), just go grab them, right?
Well, usually the only way you can get back into our building after 7 is with a parking card – which I don’t have since I take the bus. So, I’m the only one in our suite who has problems getting in after hours or on the weekend. This hadn’t proved to really be an issue… yet.
So, I’m pacing around wondering, “am I going to meet Hillary Clinton in sweatpants and a t-shirt”? (It might be a little weird to have worn that at work, but it’s lax there, and some of us like to do awesome Bar Method together).
Then I text my boss to ask if he remembers me carrying a bag out, ’cause I’m starting to get worried, “did I leave it on the bus?”
He has a brilliant idea! I’d forgotten that our night assistant editor was there! Thank goodness for someone on the later shift! She’s wonderful and sweet and really nice, so I already pretty much adore her, but I was never more thankful for her presence than in this moment.
I called her and asked if I’d swing by if she’d open the door for me. She said yes.
It just so happened when I got there that the gates hadn’t gone down. So on that specific night, I actually could’ve gotten in anyway. It was almost as though I was meant to wear the jacket I wanted. (Thank goodness, as you’ll find out later!)
I got in the building, got my Hillary-meeting jacket (and my other clothes), and got back to my friend’s apartment. After all, I gotta get in bed! I have to be up in 6 hours!
I’ll pick up here next time.