This morning it was simply impossible for me to work from home. Between my kid’s constant cries, shouts or needs and my husband’s remarks, I couldn’t focus at all on my project. Since its deadline was approaching fast, I had to leave the house and go somewhere quiet and work.
Thus I grabbed my laptop, my cellphone and my car keys and headed towards the garage.
My first thought was to go to my sister’s house which was only a few blocks away. She lived alone and I knew that I could have stayed there for a few hours. Then I remembered that during our last phone conversation she mentioned to me that she had broken up with her boyfriend.
Crap! That piece of info made me change my mind and look for an alternative destination. I knew that if I would have gone to her place, I would have had to listen to her talking about the break up.
Usually I am there for her, and I don’t mind listening, but now I was running out of time. My project was due within less than forty eight hours, and I was only halfway done. This meant there were still a lot of data to analyse, and plenty of pages to write. Spending two or three hours chatting was not an option.
Therefore I decided to go to the neighborhood’s library. I had passed by in front of it couple of times, when I was returning from the market, but I never entered inside. I knew my daughter and my mother had been there, and they referred to it as a “cool and cozy reading spot”. It wasn’t too far away from home and I didn’t have to drive an extra half an hour.
When I got there, there were no parking spaces available and they were removing the snow from the street. I had to park my car inside the Walmart’s parking lot and walk back the two blocks until I reached the library. I wasn’t thrilled I had to walk through the snow, in the cold, but at least, once arrived there, I was able to work.
Hours flew by without me realizing that I spent almost half of day working without interruption. When my little thermos ran out of coffee I had a look at the watch. It was past three, and my project was missing only its conclusion. “Not bad!” I told to myself, while I was picking up my stuff from the table, getting ready to head back to the car.
Once arrived in the parking lot, I noted that someone had left a small flyer on my windshield. When I got closer I realized it was a business card inside a Ziploc bag. It was odd. On one side of the card, under the Edmonton asphalt, it was hand written a name “Guy”.
On the back there was an emoticon showing a sad face and right under it, someone had written: “Sorry”.
It took me a few more seconds to understand that someone had hit the rear of my car, and left his business card for me to contact him. I had a look at the car and saw that my bumper and fender were damaged. That was the last thing I needed.