Yesterday morning, I arrived at work having forgotten my office employee pass, so I borrowed one from the security desk, thereby having to trade my driver's license. Seems like an unfair trade, but there it is.
Then yesterday evening, upon leaving work, I forgot to trade back, so I drove home without a driver's license. ("Sorry Officer, will my temporary employee pass suffice?")
Last night before bed, I carefully and deliberately set my temporary pass on top of my employee pass, perched on the bathroom counter, so I would remember to bring both to the office in the morning.
Enter: Working Parent Morning Parenting.
Working Parent Morning Parenting means frantically brushing my teeth and curling my hair while Fraggle yells "MAHMA!" from her crib. It means pulling Fraggle away from the cat, whose tail does not want to be yanked like tug-of-war. It means forgetting deodorant at least twice a week. It means forgetting to put socks on, but deciding to go without because running back upstairs to get some isn't worth it. It means arriving at work with sweaty bare feet that won't come out of my boots. It means that I'm a coked-out chicken with multiple heads, all cut off.
And so, of course, this morning I did not remember either of my employee passes. Both are patiently waiting, as we speak, on the bathroom counter, meaning I had to approach the security desk this morning, requesting a second temporary pass.
Why can't I just go home?