The Lawsons did Dallas!

Don't Trust Me With the Details
May 28, 2007

I'm not a responsible person...at least not with the small things. When it comes to child rearing, financial planning, and deadlines I'm you're girl. But for everything else in the universe, I suggest you go elsewhere.

• I'm the girl who always has at least one carton of expired milk in the fridge.
• I just cleaned 547 old, read messages out of my email inbox.
• I'm the one who borrows my parents' Jetta and returns it without a bumper--honestly not knowing how or where it came off.
• And I'm the one who sends my husband to school with a lunch consisting of an unopened can of Campbell's soup and mini-package of peanuts from our most recent flight.

Let me just sum it up by letting you all know that the phrase "attention to detail" can not be found anywhere on my resume. You can, however, find the phrase "Own and operate a Recreational Vehicle" prominently listed under my goals and objectives section.

Sidenote: I haven't landed an interview in almost three years.

Anywho, I had quite the lapse in responsibility this evening, and my husband is insisting that I write about it in detail (really, he just wants the attention taken off of the previous post). So here goes....

My friend Beth is in El Paso for the long weekend. When I dropped her off at the airport last week, she tossed me a set of keys and said, "Here. This is the spare key to the X-Terra and my front door. I want you to take the milk from my fridge. It's organic, and I want it to get used."

I casually replied, "Oh, cool. Thanks."

But in my head I thought, "Oh my crap. Why are you doing this? Saving the milk is not worth it. You will never see these keys again...and from past experience, I know that these little automatic door unlockers are very expensive. I better cut back on groceries this week, because I will most definitely have to replace this thing."

Well, Beth comes back tomorrow and I'm proud to say that I still have the keys--barely. They're actually sitting safely on my kitchen counter as I type--barely. But seriously, who cares where those keys have been? The important things is that I'm able to return them to my friend.

I don't think Beth ever needs to know that her keys were sitting on the roof of my car as I drove all over East Dallas this evening. The important thing is that they stayed on the roof of my car when I slammed on the brakes to spare the life of a toad, parked and ate a leisurely dinner at the Dixie House, and passed a city bus on the right to save a couple of seconds.

So, in conclusion, I have no idea how or why Beth's keys ever ended up on the roof of my Toyota, I now have one extra gallon of expired (organic) milk in my refrigerator, and you should never, never, never trust me with the minor details of your life.

I mean it.