I am not blonde. Except for that one time that I played Rapunzel in "Into the Woods," I have never been anything even remotely close to blonde. Unfortunately, I seem to have a lot of "blonde" moments (my apologies to all of you quick-witted blondes out there) which I usually try to blame on pregnancy or lack of sleep or something.
I completely attribute this morning's particular blonde moment to exhaustion. I had to go to Tuacahn to teach, and since Joel had an early morning Jazz Band rehearsal, our niece Aly came over to watch the kids. She got here a little before 7:00 and crashed on the couch while I finished getting ready. Since I was so tired, I was already running late and I got out to my car at about 7:10.
The key wouldn't go into the ignition. Nothing I did could make it fit. I tried turning things on and off (including a button I'd never noticed before right above the ignition), jiggling the steering wheel and trying to move it up or down. It was so dark I couldn't really see the ignition even with the light on, but I was sure something was terribly wrong with it. In desperation I finally called Joel to see if he knew what to do since he's the one that usually drives that car, even though I knew that would be interrupting his rehearsal. Luckily he hadn't started yet and answered the phone.
Not surprisingly, this particular thing had never happened to him before. He told me to try various things and none of them worked. I was starting to get frustrated and worried I'd never get down to St. George in time for my lessons. I started noticing that the beep the car was making because the lights were on didn't sound very familiar, so naturally I asked Joel about it. He said he'd never heard that sound in his life. Great, I thought. Something is totally wrong with the car.
Then I glanced over to my left. I noticed that there was a manual handle there to roll up the window. That seemed a bit odd since I was sure we had automatic windows. My first thought was that Joel must have changed them when he got the door handle fixed a few months ago. My second thought was: Wait a second...I've driven this car plenty of times since then and I'm pretty sure we still have automatic windows.
Which led to my third thought: Oh. My. Gosh. This isn't my car!!!
And I quickly told Joel I was in Aly's car (whose interior is an awful lot like ours, especially in the dark) and hung up the phone before he could ridicule me too much...
...Or ask me if I was sure I didn't dye my hair.