This afternoon, I was in a hurry to get home from running errands so that I could make sure Geoffrey had the car in time to get to work promptly. Of course, that meant that when I’d loaded the groceries into the car, I realized I’d forgotten a rather important item (the meat for tonight’s dinner, which Jenn specifically asked me to get, since she’s being a goddess & cooking dinner tonight). So I dashed back into the store, grabbed the meat, went through check-out (thank heavens for self-serve check-out!), and ran back to my car.

Which I had locked myself out of. Yup, the keys could clearly be seen …in the ignition.

But if there’s anything I’m really, really good at, it’s creative problem-solving!

I might actually have to thank my evil & cheerfully sadistic gymnastics coach from middle school for this talent, because she was instrumental in teaching me that saying “I can’t” means you’ve already convinced yourself that you actually can’t — and you’d be wrong, in most cases. She taught her students this by requiring each of us to do 15 push-ups (real ones, not “girly” push-ups) every time we said, “I can’t.” Instead, we were required to learn to say, “I don’t know how” — as that meant that we theoretically could, once we learned the action in question. Because your mindset truly is as important as your ability, in the vast majority of cases. (And I’m really sorry that I can’t remember her name…it started with an F, I think. Damnit. If you were a gymnastics coach in rural Oregon in 1980-83, THANK YOU!!!)

I did a lot of push-ups before I learned to say, “I don’t know how.” And now, I absolutely hate it when people say, “I can’t,” because as far as I can see, it usually means, “I’m too lazy to consider that there might be other options, or to figure out what those other options might be.” Or, more simply, it often means, “I don’t want to.”

So, I’d locked myself out of the car. Since I have roadside assistance, I could have gotten a locksmith to come pop my lock for me. I’ve locked myself out of my car so often that my leaving-the-car mantra is “keys in hand” — which today obviously I forgot — and the past has taught me that a locksmith, especially one sent by roadside assistance (who therefore cannot gouge you mercilessly on the price, since they’re on contract), will usually take between 45 - 90 minutes to show up. I needed to be home within 30 minutes to ensure Geoffrey got to work on time.

But, as my sweetie Karel will tell you, I have a secret weapon in the locked-out-of-the-car conundrum. And that secret weapon is …my toothbrush holder!

Yes, my toothbrush holder, a 10-inch long piece of hard molded (purple) plastic which does actually contain a toothbrush — which I keep in my purse for those times when I’m away from home and my mouth desperately needs more freshening than gum or mints will manage. I’m not going to announce exactly how I use it to get into my car, because then anyone with a toothbrush holder could break into my car, but suffice it to say I’ve done it before. (At midnight, on a nearly-freezing night, in a movie theater parking lot when Karel & I had gone to see a movie, when I’d already used up my entire year’s quota of allowable roadside assistance calls due to locking myself out of my car several times.)

The moral of the story is, there’s always another option. All that matters is whether you’re willing to look for other options and do what’s necessary to carry them out.