I awoke slightly hungover at 6:30am and surveyed the damage: my left knee was swollen again, as it was still tender from that magnificent skiing accident, so walking 3 miles to work was possible but not advisable (I've been trying to listen to my body's aches and pains ever since I spent two weeks walking on a broken foot and subsequently had to spend six months in a cast). I had no phone, and therefore no phone numbers, to call anyone to pick me up, rendering my Skype account once again only hypothetically useful. I had no idea where my spare car key was. I had no cash and no ID and no way of getting any, so a cab was out and even being able to afford the fucking once-an-hour bus was questionable. I decided to take a shower and think think think.
While scrubbing eyeliner off my neck, I decided that if I could get to my car, then I could get to work, and everything else would figure itself out. I contemplated all the possible locations of my spare car key: any number of purses? Under couch? In laundry? In coat? In car? It took me a half an hour of uprooting everything in my apartment before I found it in the pocket of a beloved but woefully underworn red coat.
Now all I had to do was get to my car, parked in a lot downtown. I wasn't quite sure how I would get it out of the lot, being cashless, but that was a problem for future Morgan. Though the knee was swollen and sore, I figured I might as well make a run out of it and jogged a mile back to my car.
