Forgetting

4:45 p.m. I looked outside the window of the break room. I-285 was jammed solid, a wall of trucks and autos. Southbound I-75 was also a parking lot. Damn, I’ll never make it to dinner in Roswell in time for Gary’s cocktails. Love his dirty martinis. Why couldn’t I have left the office a half hour ago? I’d have had plenty of time to go home, walk the dog, and high-tail it up to Roswell.

4:50 p.m. I filled my water bottle and went to the bathroom. Drives like this, I had to empty the bladder. No way would I ever again repeat the Florida Turnpike incident. Took me months to pay that fine, made me feel like a juvenile delinquent. I mean, really – like nobody ever took a whiz on the side of the road.

4:55 p.m. Okay, back at my desk. Laptop, notebook, water bottle, jacket, keys, reading glasses, headset. Got ‘em all. I could leave – finally. Anything I’m forgetting? Nope – let’s get out of here, I thought. Out the door I went to the elevators.

Tick tock, tick tock. Where was the damned elevator? Oh – there it is. Down ten floors, stopped at every one. People sauntered into the elevator like they had all the time in the day.

4:59 p.m. Finally, out the lobby entrance to my car and to the traffic.

5:06 p.m. I got onto I-75 south heading into Atlanta. I hit the wall of traffic, so I get off at Paces Ferry Road and head home on street roads. Whew. Traffic is fine, no trouble at all. Smooth sailing, I’d get home in twenty minutes. Then I could high-tail it up to Roswell after Chester goes to the bathroom.

Why was so much of life’s routine centered around urination?

5:30 p.m. I’m stuck at the Peachtree Street intersection. I decided to call Gary and tell him I’d be a half hour late. Traffic in Atlanta, you see. I reach for my phone in my backpack – damn. It’s not there.

5:31 p.m. I start heading back to the office. Had to have my cellphone. I couldn’t live without it.