That Floundering Feeling

I had a meeting the other day about a writing job which I'm excited about as it's not a venue I've done a lot with and it will require a bit of detective work on my behalf. I knew going into the meeting that I would have to bring T.D. along and that was fine as this woman also works out of her home and her kids would be there too. Fine. Fine.

When I arrived I got T.D. settled in the playroom just off the office. She toddled around the room checking out the new toys. It soon became clear however, that the office was far more fascinating to her and so were the contents of my purse. She showed this fascination by dumping it all over the floor and then systematically removing what I couldn't grab as I tried to pay attention, take notes, and make intelligent conversation. Oy. My stress level rose a bit there. The meeting continued on as I doled out graham crackers and juice. I took notes and stole my sunglasses back. I tucked my cell phone away as well as pens. T.D. found a highlighter in the office and took off with it. A paper weight was brought to me with reverence. Sigh. It was exhausting and distracting while I tried to be OK with it all. I just don't do well with this type of thing.

When we had finally covered what we needed to I gathered up my stuff to go and it was just all over the place. My shit was all apart as we like to say in our house. Literally all apart. I love gathering crap up off a strangers floor. I took my notes, my supplies, my kid, my purse and the items given to me during the meeting. It was an armful. I thanked her and we headed out the front door. Then that damned wind that has been keeping me up at night, blowing crap all over our yards, and generally making life incredibly bothersome happened. In one giant gust it ripped all the notes from my hands. The stack of papers she had just given me? Sailing across four houses in her neighborhood in under five seconds. There was simply no way for me to grab them with everything else I had in my arms. I set some things down but as I awkwardly crawled around with T.D. picking up loose papers I knew it was a lost cause. They were not even in sight anymore. I HATE WIND. I don't care about how it helps pollination... I LOATHE WIND. Fine. Fine. Fine! I will just put my stuff in the car and ask for another folder of papers. But wait...

"Where are my keys?", I ask T.D. Mainly because she's there and I'm squawking aloud but also because I know she's the culprit behind the lost keys. I dump out my mess of a purse and look. Nothing. I'm locked out. I trudge back to the house and ring the bell. Embarrassed and feeling like the biggest, unprofessional loser I explain the wind and now the keys. We head back into the house. The keys are found in the playroom quickly and a new folder is presented to me. I felt like a moron though. A tired dishrag, rung out to dry, found on the road dishrag. An incompetent, unprofessional dishrag. Days later I still cringe when I think of it.