TRUE LIFE: I Am Actually BAD at Being a Neighbor

New England is currently doing the thing where it goes to glory and produces some truly beautiful nature.  I woke up this morning to a spectacular green day and decide that despite its being a bit hot, it would be a great day to get out on the Rail Trail, which is about four minutes from my house and is maintained by the excellent Wachusett Greenways people.  It's a lovely wide trail meticulously graveled and groomed, and there are some nice little bridges and benches and what have you.

On my way out, I noticed some trails that seemed to go down towards the river.  I kept walking, crossed my favorite bridge, and went a little way past it.  I'd set a timer because I had to be home by a certain time, and it went off by a big rock that seemed like a good place to mark my turnaround.  When I got the bridge, I saw that another trail went down to the river, and turned off onto that trail, figuring I could follow the river a short distance and turn around.  It kept going, and as I walked, I remembered the turnoff I'd seen earlier in my walk and figured I could just go up there and meet up with the trail.  The path was full of slanting sunlight and soft green moss, and when I got to a place where I could see the main trail across the river, I was so enamored of nature that my decision making abilities might have been a leeeeetle impaired and I decided to just ford the river.  I tied my shoes around my bra strap and put my keys and phone in my bra, and set off into the river.  I made it just fine and clambered up the hill to return to the trail.

Here's where the failure starts.

I got off the trail and since no one else was in the parking lot, I just took my jeans off to drive home.  I just cleaned my car, including scrubbing all the seats down with saddle soap, last week, so I didn't want to put my wet butt on them if I didn't have to.  I figured I would be able to scoot in the house no problem, what with it being the middle of the day on a Tuesday. 

Our favorite neighbors are moving, one of them having taken a new job in Philly, and thus have been working to sell their house.  I pulled into my driveway to see our current neighbors, our potential new neighbors, and their home inspector all standing in their driveway.  I made an elaborate pantomime of "damn! I can't believe I forgot that...thing!" and drove three streets over to wriggle back into my jeans and reassess my life choices. 

This is why when "THIS...is Your Life!" shows up they'd better have a laugh track on standby.