A Scrape

Sometimes my life is boring, but today it took an upswing and landed somewhere between adventuresome and horrifying.

Backstory: You all know how I moved to North Carolina and suddenly couldn't turn my lights off or keep track of my keys? My merciful and loving Erin and Ben built me a car emergency kit for Christmas, which included a lot of good stuff but most importantly jumper cables and a hide a key thingy. So I moved it all in with Jed, drove around for a few days with the hide a key thingy to make sure it would stay there before I actually put my spare key in it, and felt better about my life in spite of my neurotic tendencies.

Actual Story: Meanwhile, back before Christmas, I was called to be a ward missionary. Fast forward a few weeks, and the missionaries ask me to come teach this investigator with them. So there I was tonight, parked by the address they gave me which happened to be a pole near the road surrounded by a few thousand apartment buildings. I call them to ask which one and where I'm supposed to be going, right?
Here's where we do the Slightly Applicable Anecdote:
 Elder Fowkes asks "Are you parked on the main road next to the girl with the grocery bags who is crossing the street?"
 Slightly Creepy. OK. "Yes"
"She's going the right direction. Follow her. We're in the car with the bike rack."
And now I feel like I'm in a spy movie and I'm dropping a ransom package in the darkness. This makes me feel uninhibited and conspiratorial, so fine, I'm just gonna say it.
"Slightly Creepy. See you there."
Awkward silence from Elder Fowkes.
"Kay, bye."
Following this odd conversation, I decided to pretend that never happened, and in a rush of sudden decision making), I acted the way I always do in rushes of sudden decision making. I got overconfident and did something stupid. I stood up fast and slammed my door shut, turned purposefully towards the correct apartment building and realized at that exact moment that my keys were in the ignition.

Now, I know none of you have heard the residents of North Carolina extoll the virtues of Durham. That could be partly because the majority of you lovely readers live in the Midwest or Alaska, but it probably has more to do with the fact that the residents of North Carolina would never extoll the virtues of Durham so much as they tell you in vehement tones to never go there after dark. I've been told not to bother even in daylight occasionally, but the notion most generally perpetuated is that if you go to Durham after dark you will  be shot or robbed. It is for this exact reason that when I realized I had just locked my keys in my car in plain sight in the ignition, I felt not panic but rather the urge to heave a sigh of resignation to my foolish tendencies. Because I knew, right then, that I couldn't leave my keys in plain sight in the ignition if I wanted to have a non stolen non smashed car. I knew that with the missionaries waiting for me, (and maybe watching, who knows really, cause they are omniscient like a narrator) I was going to get down in the road and fish out my hide a key thingy in the dark right then so as to not leave the keys in plain sight in the ignition in crime-ridden Durham.

So there I was, laying in the road in the dark cause my flashlight is locked in the car and I can't remember exactly how far under I stuck the hide a key thingy, really hoping the omniscient missionaries couldn't see me. And I unlocked the car and got my keys and realized that I couldn't now put the hide a key thingy back, cause we're in Durham and that in unthinkable, I guess. So I took it with me and I went and met the missionaries (from where they were standing, I was in plain sight, but if they saw my foolish unflattering laying in the road act, they didn't say anything. What gentlemen!). And we taught our investigator and it was awesome. And when we were done, we made plans to teach again on Saturday, and we shook hands and I proceeded to my car where I once again fiddled with the hide a key thingy putting it back securely.* All was well, and I drove home where I was greeted enthusiastically with cries of "Milla's home!" and "Pillow!"** Best day ever right?

Buuuut then I sat down and they all asked in horror, "What happened to your face? What's wrong with your nose?"  "I don't know, what happened to my face?" "Did someone punch you?"

Crap.

I hurried to the bathroom to inspect, trailed closely by my seven year old shadow who told me I look funny right as I see that I have car grease all over my face. Somehow it is only on a few tips of my fingers, but is actually smeared on my nose in such a manner that resembles a sick nasty bruise. I went back to the kitchen and told the family what happenned and Erin made that horrified Erin face at me before exclaiming, "Oh, it's all over your face. It's on your forehead and your chin, oh!"

So here's the sixty four thousand dollar question. Did this happen after the first or second encounter with the underside of my car and the hide a key thingy? More importantly, did I have car grease on my face the whole time I was with these people? The fact that I have no idea is a little much. It's horrifying but also so hilarious I can't be sad that happened.

Also, while I was at the sink trying to wipe the stuff off my face, Erin eyed me fondly and said, "It's just like Anne when she dyes her nose red and has no idea, and it makes me like you better!"

I think it's quite the perk that such a thing makes me like Anne. I do get in to scrapes just as Anne and Emily, and if I can have that, I'll take the possibility that I just went and taught the gospel with grease on my whole face.  I'll take it.










* Hey internets, I realize now that I just told you all about this and my hide a key thingy is compromised. But none of you know where I live or where I park, and besides, you're nice people, right? I choose to feel okay about it.

** Emma calls me Pillow. For reals. All the time. It's the cutest freaking thing I've ever experienced.