Anyhoo, this is my lucky jacket because one day, back then in 1994, I slipped it on and sneaked out of work to copy my resume at Kinko's. (Some things never change! Except now I sneak out for chocolate.) I was hurrying down K Street, thinking about job options -- Florida? Idaho? Cincinnati? nah, not Cincinnati, I don't even like chili... -- when a nervous-looking guy with a big camera stopped me and spilled this long story about a missing model, a magazine photo shoot, and would I please, please, just step into this restaurant's bathroom?
Oh my! It briefly crossed my mind that this was actually a sophisticated trap by white slave traders to capture self-obsessed Washingtoniennes. You go into the bathroom and exit in Arabia somewhere... But I could not resist! So I went in, pushed up my lucky jacket's sleeves, and washed my hands, over and over and again, while the camera clicked away. Supposedly it was a story on bisexual bathrooms, which sort of makes sense, those were the Ally McBeal days.
Ha! I know they're not bisexual bathrooms, but that's my secret inside joke that makes me think of my grandmother, who used to buy me Calvin Klein Escape perfume for Christmas and say, "You know what? This is bisexual perfume! The lady at Fox's told me so." And I'd say, "Naaaan! It's not bisexual! It's unisex!"
Anyhoo, they gave me a $50 gift certificate to the restaurant.
And that wasn't its only piece of good luck. This morning, when I reached into the pocket, I found a business card for a big-shot editor at a big-name newspaper. Aha! In 2003, I wore it to a job interview -- and got it! (I suppose that editor is probably panhandling on Biscayne Boulevard now, given the general state of the news industry these days... You know the Rocky Mountain News is publishing its last issue today? I have a friend who works there. Ack.)
So what luck has my jacket brought me today?? Well, we spent a little time this morning at Lucy's school, which was holding an open house for its pre-K program. Very nice. I do not, in general, approve of the use of workbooks in any kind of classrooms, especially pre-K, but I did very much like the fairy village that the kids constructed from lunch bags and imagination.
And then, David dropped me off at the Metro elevator, where I reached into my purse for my wallet and -- it was gone!! Aaaah, babies! (I always blame the babies when things are missing. They are convenient that way. I picture Margaret, sitting on the floor, tossing credit cards to the ceiling. Or Josephine, unzipping the change purse and gleefully shouting, "Monies!") Momentary panic -- but, in the corner of my eye, I can see David's car disappear into the entrance of the county parking garage.
I am off! Flying down the ramp in my brown boots, waving my rolled-up umbrella! I ran three miles this morning (was supposed to run four, but my God, was it warm!?? Three days ago, it was 22 degrees, and this morning it was 51! And me in my winter pants!) And down we go, him in the speedy Saab, me in my tall boots. Down, down, down to...
Level 4. Four! Where he opens the door, grabs his bag, and finds me standing outside his door, huffing in my lucky jacket. "You didn't see me?" "Why would I look behind me?" Realization dawns. "You ran down four levels??" More huffing, but mostly of the self-righteous kind. I take $25 -- Metro fare plus fancy lunch with Auntie Pamela at Il Mulino today. And shuffle off to the elevator.
Get to work finally...
Find my wallet on my desk.
Oh, what luck!!