Sing it, Main Ingredient.
So I left my car lights on not once, not twice, but thrice in a two-week span. The only good thing about it is that I just got to use the word “thrice.”
My excuse is that my Honda’s lights are so so quiet (shhh) when I click them on that it doesn’t even register in my auditory memory that they were turned on in the first place. And in the soft morning light, when it’s not super dark to clearly see that the lights are still on, it’s easy to forget.
Why do I even turn them on in the not-that-dark morning anyway? I think it’s because I see other people driving around with their car lights on and think I’m supposed to do it too. Peer pressure. Or would this be mass psychology?
Here is how The Car Light Saga unfolded.
The first time: “No big deal, everyone makes mistakes,” I think to myself. Call Matt up to hook up the jumper cables, done.
The second time: I feel a little more embarrassed. “Oh, Liane. What’s going on, girl?”, I say (out loud this time) to myself. A co-worker did the jumper cable honors.
The third time: No words. Just shame.
Fortunately, I had already thought to move the jumper cables from Matt’s car to my car since I would probably be the one needing them, given my track record. Self-fulfilling prophecy?
I was at my school working again, this time in the evening, no co-workers around. I just couldn’t bring myself to interrupt Matt’s study time again to come and bail me out. Since my school building is also a church, there are often non-school people around, which I was hoping for. I didn’t see any cars parked around me in the back lot so I walked to the other side of the building and found some cars in the front lot – a sign of people! (thank goodness).
After wandering the building for a minute, I found these people. In a room down the hall. Clearly in the middle of a powerful intercessory prayer meeting.
Hmmm. Do I interrupt this? Should I wait until it’s over? When is it going to be over? Maybe I should join in? Standing at the door, I sheepishly piped up: “umm? Excuse me? I’m so sorry to interrupt. Can someone jump my car? It’s dead. I have my own jumper cables. Again, I really am sorry to interrupt….”
It was a little awkward. But a kind man came and helped me. I couldn’t tell if he spoke much English. So I smiled a lot. And gently nodded a lot. And said “thank you” a lot. (I notice I tend to do this smile/nod/repeat the same words routine around foreigners.) When Black Beauty (that’s my car) was up and running again, I pulled away with another smile and nod and “thank you” and headed back to the Tree House.
Home sweet home. Matt doesn’t need to know about this, I concluded.
And then, a few days later, I did it again. It’s true. Feel free to judge. Four times leaving my lights on. Four. 4! Enough is enough! A co-worker (different one this time) came to my rescue. I thought it best to switch it up/rotate the people I ask help from, so that the same person doesn’t think I’m a complete dingbat. However now, I have let everyone know (or at least all 4 of my blog “followers”) as an act of catharsis.
Needless to say, I felt flawed and forgetful and embarrassingly irresponsible (although quite adept at using jumper cables now). I also felt like I was living a lie, because Matt only knew about the first two times.
I brainstormed with myself some possible solutions to my bad habit and eventually realized that with all other areas in my life, when I want to remember something, I WRITE IT DOWN (grocery list, sermon notes, to-do list, journal…).
So, I wrote it down.
And I am glad to say that it has WORKED! No fifth time for this girl!
Sometimes, you just get tired of playing the fool.