You're fat and you don't have money

God has a funny way of telling me things. Really -- it's not 'strange'-funny, it's 'haha'-funny.

Earlier this week on Monday I met up with an old friend for lunch at a local Japanese establishment. We walked down a few blocks, stopped off at the bank so I could grab some money, and walked across the street to the restaurant. It was delicious as always (teriyaki chicken with yakisoba noodles). After lunch we walked back to campus because I had convinced him the perfect Mother's Day gift would be to take his mother and grandmother to the Spring Dance Concert hosted by the dance department at WOU, and we needed to buy tickets before they sold out. Afterwards, I ran several more errands around campus and was just about to head home when I realized....







I no longer had my house key.



That's right, somewhere along this arduous journey through Monmouth and across campus I had dropped my key somewhere. (See, there was a point to detailing my entire itinerary.) Since I didn't have any pressing matters to attend to later that afternoon/evening, I wasn't too worried, but this did mean that I would have to wait until my roommate came home. Sometimes that wasn't until 11 or midnight.

I called my lovely roommate and found out that she wouldn't be home until 7:30 at the earliest, so I decided to retrace my steps and see if it fell out of my back pocket along the way. My first stop: the bank.

Me: Hiiii, I may or may not have left my key here.
Teller: Is it a single key on a black key chain?
Me: Yes! You have it??
Teller: Yes, I figured it was a house key.
Me: Thank you so much!

And thus, my key was no longer lost. It was found.
To celebrate, I was going to stop by the ice-cream shop to celebrate me being able to get back into my apartment. (Understand that I had recently shelled out $530 for car repairs.) I slide past Subway quickly and reach for the door handle of The Scoop, only to be met with staunch resistance and a darkened shop. I check my watch to make sure that I wasn't trying to get in when they were still closed. 3:30pm on a Monday. Store hours: 12pm-9:30pm Monday-Friday.

I was being locked out, and for no apparent reason at all. Not even a dandy CLOSED sign in the window.

Now God, I know ice-cream is not good for me since I am trying to lose weight. And I really shouldn't be spending $2.50 for ice-cream when I don't really have the money. You sure have a way of beating Your point into me. Point realized, Sir.

Just so you know, I drove by The Scoop later that evening and they were open. And I didn't have any money.