Plan B

Yesterday morning, as I was taking my dogs out for their early morning potty break, I noticed a snail hanging out on my front porch. The doggies did their business, and we went back inside. Ten minutes later, snail forgotten, I left the house to go to work. I went down the stairs and felt a crunch under my foot. Shudder... Had I just annihilated some kind of speed demon of a snail? When he met his demise, he was a whole stair down from his last sighting. I immediately went into Plan B mode... I figured my husband would come down the stairs to walk the dogs, step on the snail goo, and go flying. He might lay crumpled on the ground for hours, waiting for a neighbor to come outside and spot him. He recently started a new job, so he doesn’t have much sick time accrued yet. We may be down to one income if I didn’t clean up the mess. All these thoughts occurred as I was scraping my shoe across the lawn. Five seconds max. I went back inside for paper towels and 409 Spray. Catastrophe averted. Last weekend, I picked up my little Yorkie from the groomer. When we came outside, my key fob wouldn’t unlock my car. My brain went immediately to the Plan B place. I wondered how I was going to get my spare key from the jar on the bookcase in my dining room. Nobody was home. Who could I call? Would Stella and I have to hitch-hike home? Hey, maybe the Mini Cooper people could unlock my car from the dealership... It was at this point that I realized I was trying to unlock someone else’s car. My Mini was one car over. At least this time nobody was in the car that wasn’t mine. The last time I tried to unlock and climb in a car that wasn’t mine, a lady was sitting in it. A terrified lady. Sigh. I would love to figure out a way to make a fortune from my Plan B gene. Or maybe harness the power of it. Kind of like wind power, only different. Way, way different.