Here’s a play-by-play:

1. Bid Kauai adieu.
2. Land at LAX on Saturday night.
3. Wait twenty-some-odd minutes for our bags in the sweaty and overcrowded baggage claim/driver pick-up/family waiting area/all-around clusterfuck, while doing my best to ignore that pressing feeling on my bladder, thinking I’ll be home soon enough.
4. Trek several minutes to the next terminal down where the ParknFly shuttle serendipitously pulls in right as we approach.
5. Start rummaging in my purse for my keys as we pull into the parking lot where my car awaits us.
6. Realize I put them in the “key bowl” on the first day of vacation as I was transferring purses AND NEVER PUT THEM BACK.
7. Have a mild panic attack while other shuttle passengers watch, their faces displaying a mixture of pity and schadenfreude.
8. Try to avoid eye contact with the shuttle driver as I explain that actually, no, sorry, we won’t be getting off here, we have to go back to the airport.
9. Call my friend who is dogsitting for me to ask urgently for another favor, a lift home. Hang up before he has a chance to ask why.
10. Let my sister make the phone call to my parents, who are thankfully still on the island, to tell them of my faux pas.
11. Apologize profusely when my friend who dogsat and agreed to give me a ride home tells me he was on a date when I called. Try to believe him when he says it’s fine – they went to see a movie and it had just ended. What movie? Inception. How many times has he seen it now? Three.
12. Spend most of the car ride home discussing Inception and being made fun of because I’ve only seen it once.
13. Talk to my mom the next day to find out she won’t be able to send the keys that day because it’s Sunday. So expect them Tuesday at the earliest.
14. Talk to my mom on Monday. She sent the keys but I won’t get them until Wednesday. Tell myself it’s not so bad. I’m home a lot anyway. But I’m hungry.
15. Go to yummy.com to order groceries to last the next couple days. Be grateful for yummy.com.
16. Spend lots of time looking up jobs online. Try to convince myself of my competence as a potential employee, despite my constant occasional spaceyness.
17. Start thinking of my missing keys as a metaphor for my current state in life. It’s like, I’m here, wanting to go somewhere, I just don’t have my keys with me.
18. Do a happy dance when the UPS guy throws the keys onto my front porch.
19. Pick up my car, put on a CD I haven’t listened to in forever, and sing along, remembering all the lyrics I thought I’d forgotten.
20. Enjoy the ride.