At least that's off my to-do list, right?

(Cont'd from here.)

After church, I had some errands to run: 1) Score awesome tennis shoes on sale. 2) Check out sale at A.nn T.aylor L.oft.

I got my awesome tennis shoes, and then I headed to the mall for errand No. 2. I came into the mall from a different entrance than usual, and it's a different mall than the one I usually go to because it's the mall that's closer to my church. Still, I've been there several times.

I drove around the mall until I came to the general area where I usually park. As I turned to drive through the spaces in the correct direction, some girl who was cutting across the parking lot and evidently trying to break a world record in the process nearly hit me. (I cut through my fair share of parking lots, but not that quickly, and I definitely yield to the people who are driving through the lot correctly!) After I'd parked my car, I was nearly hit by another idiot driver who was speeding toward the main entrance. I hadn't stepped out in front of his car, but he was headed toward me pretty fast. After running those 2 1/2 miles Friday night, my calves were too sore in my heels to jog across the lot so he could get to Sears 20 seconds faster, so I gave him a dirty look. To be 100% positive I did have the right of way, I looked for the crosswalk. Sure enough, it was just a few feet to my right.

Safe inside the mall, I headed straight for the directory so I could find the stores I needed and head home. I went to A.nn T.aylor, and I wasn't pleased with what was left. Everything I tried on made me look like a frumpy 50-year-old librarian (NOTE: I do not think 50-year-olds, librarians or 50-year-old librarians are frumpy, which is why I included all three of those words in the description.) who was trying to get in touch with her younger side again. Being a 24-year-old with a smaller chest, I can get away with showing a little more skin than these shirts. I was looking for a cute but classy tank top or halter. None could be found at that particular A.nn T.aylor yesterday.

I went to a few other stores, and after I was about to give up, I found a nice shirt on sale at The Limited. Perfect. Now, I could go home.

I walked to the edge of the mall again and exited to the parking lot. Nothing had looked familiar on my walk out. Sure enough, the crosswalk was even in the wrong place. Doh!

I entered the mall again, walked (with sore calves, remember?) to the other side of the mall and exited again. Crosswalk still in wrong place. WTF?

I went back inside and looked at the map. This was not where I came in. I looked for the location where the "You Are Here" sticker had been when I first entered, and I went back to that entrance. It was on the first floor! Silly me -- I was on the second. I had forgotten I'd climbed an escalator when I came in.

So I exited the mall and headed toward the direction of my car. Only it wasn't there.

I walked around, clicking my little panic button on my key. Nothing. I walked around, and around, and around. I knew I had to have looked like an idiot to the people driving through the parking lot. They were all surely laughing at me, in the comfort of their own cars, as I hobbled around with my calves that were sore enough without my wearing heels (I knew I should've worn ballet slippers today!).

I called ER, but she didn't answer. I called her over 5 minutes later, but she still didn't answer. I called Jeremy. "I can't go to the gym tonight," I told him.

"OooooK. Why?"

"Because I don't think I'm ever going to get home," I told him. "I'm at the mall, and I can't find my freakin' car."

"Do you think someone stole it?" he asked.

"No, I'm pretty sure I just forgot where I parked. I already went out two other exits before this one. Pretty sure this one's all me."

"You can't find it anywhere?"

"No. I almost hope someone stole it, though, so I'm not just some idiot who lost her car. I'm 24, not 84. But it would be pretty crappy if I couldn't find it and it got stolen."

I saw a security car drive by. I tried to catch the driver, but she (being the great security guard she was) drove right on by me, oblivious. I hung up with Jeremy and called the number on the side of the vehicle. The dispatcher in mall security told me he'd have the driver turn around. Two minutes later, I was getting frustrated. It shouldn't take two minutes for a car to turn around.

Jeremy had already called me to see if my luck had changed.

I continued my search, clicking my panic button over and over. I got excited when I heard a car honk when I clicked the button on my key. Just to be sure, I clicked it again. Damnit! It was someone else's car.

Over the time I walked through the parking lot, that happened to me a few times. I even helped another woman figure out where her car was. But she didn't help me back!

Finally, the security guard came back around again. I was standing almost in the road, looking right at her. She drove right past me. "HELLO?!!" I called, waving my arms. The woman stopped. "I'm the one who called for you," I told her. I climbed into her car and explained my situation to her: "I feel like such an idiot, but I can't find my car. I have no idea where it is."

We started driving around, looking for it. "This happens all the time," she told me.

"To people under the age of 50?"

"You'd be surprised," she said.

"Well, this is the first time I've ever done anything close to this," I said.

She started asking me questions: Do you remember what area you parked? Do you remember if you went in through a store? Did you go to a store as soon as you got in? What kind of car do you drive? What color?

We drove through the lot where I had been walking, and we couldn't find my car. We headed to the next main entrance, which really wasn't far north of where I had just wandered aimlessly for the past 30 minutes.

I knew I hadn't parked in this lot, but we drove around it anyway. We had gone through a couple of rows when I spotted a beautiful bright red to my right. It was my car.

Wow.

I thanked the woman and got out of her car and into mine as quickly as I could. ER had returned my call while I was meeting the security guard, so I called her back.

"I think I have a brain tumor," I told her.

"What?"

"Well, you know how I always had an awesome memory? How I could remember such random details about things?"

"Yeah ..."

"I used to be a good speller too," I said. "I was in the spelling bee in the fourth grade and the eighth grade. I was good. But not anymore. In fact, I misspelled 'forty' a few months ago. Forty!!! Even first-graders know how to spell 'forty'!

"And I just spent the last hour trying to leave the mall. Turns out it's really hard to do when you can't remember where you left your car!"

"I'm sure you just have a lot on your mind," she said.

"What is my problem?!" I asked her. At that point, I was starting to cry.

"It's been a crazy few months for you," ER told me. She pointed out that there have been a lot of big changes in my life, and although many of them have been good, they've been big. "Plus with K gone, you're probably just stressed out."

"I don't feel stressed out."

"Well, probably with the holidays and everything, you've been so busy you haven't had a chance to realize you're stressed. You've got a lot on your mind, and you might not be sleeping well --"

"I know I'm not sleeping well," I told her. "I go to bed too late, and I don't sleep well once I get to sleep."

"A lack of sleep affects your memory!" she said. "Not to mention stress."

Her diagnosis made sense, but I was still frustrated about the whole afternoon. We talked a little longer, and I felt better about things after we hung up.

Then, I remembered this event from when K was in Afghanistan. Now it all made sense.

I was glad I had cancelled on the gym. I took the night to myself to get some much-needed rest and relaxation. I took a 45-minute nap on my couch, then got a few things done around my apartment. I was in bed by 9:30, and I shut off my computer a little after 10.

My mind wasn't so willing to rest, though. I couldn't quiet my thoughts enough to get to sleep. I was in that not-quite-awake, not-really-asleep state for a few hours. At one point, Piper, who was lying near the foot of my bed, farted, and that woke me up. (Yes, it actually made noise. I laughed at her.)

When I woke up this morning, I knew I hadn't slept well. Still, just lying there doing nothing had done me some good. I could feel a difference that the amount of relaxation had made. Even though the quality of sleep hadn't been good, the quantity made me feel rested. It was actually kind of pathetic to realize that even a bad but long night's rest could do me some good. I guess that's how bad I needed it.

And since it seems I have to have one really stupid moment each time K is deployed, at least it's out of the way now.

I told K about the ATM blunder while he was in Afghanistan, but this story I think I'll save for when he's back for good. I don't want him worried that his wife is falling apart back home. Plus, I'm sure by then, it'll be a hell of a lot funnier even to me.