(just so you know).

Last night after directing Ava to the underside of her covers, I snuck out the backdoor and drove out of our alley. I headed downtown towards the soothing sauna and whirlpool at Shanel’s condo.

There was no parking left in the garage, so I had to park on the street. I dug about in my purse for a few quarters to feed the greedy meter and headed up to her building.  I walked through the lobby, rode up the elevator, and walked down her hall before I realized that I had left my swimsuit in the car.

I swung open her door, announced my ridiculousness, threw down my purse, snatched up her building keys and headed back out.

I walked down her hall, rode down the elevator, walked through the lobby, and back out to my car. I stood under the glow of the street lamp in the dark night looking down at my hands. They had the keys to her building, but not the keys to my car. My car keys were up in her condo.

I switched my flip-flops to the other direction and clacked them back to her building, through the lobby, up the elevator, and down her hallway.

Another trip in and out of her condo. Another trip down her hall. Another trip down the elevator and through the lobby. And finally another trip down the sidewalk to my car. Clearly, I believe that you must be thoroughly stressed out and exhausted before partaking in the relaxing elements of a sauna.

This time, my car made it’s cheery “woo-hoo” sound at my approach, releasing it’s lock on my trunk and therefore my swimsuit.

How many trips does it take Rachel to get her swimsuit from her car to the hot tub?

Three.

Really, I take efficiency to a whole new level.