This morning I was brushing my teeth in the washroom when I realised–oh shit!–that I had thrown my bathrobe on and stumbled out into the hall without triple-checking (as has been my habit) that I have my key in my pocket. In fact, I hadn’t even checked once. The key was most emphatically not in my pocket, no matter how many times I felt around in there. This necessitated a call to public safety, and then I stood around the hall in my bathrobe, waiting while the RA on duty was summoned out of bed, and made her way over to North Hall to let me back in. Trust me: I lacked the cool suave of this gentleman on the right.
It had to happen at least once. When I lived in the dorms in Aberdeen, I did it twice in quick succession about a month into my residency–once while wearing the very same bathrobe–and after that took to leaving the key physically IN the lock whenever I was in the flat. But that was a more secure environment; I have been warned by people who have reason to know that this is a bad idea here in North Hall. Expensive and/or irreplaceable things have been known to go missing.
So on a Sunday morning, when I get up and blearily stumble to the washroom to clean my teeth and wash my face, I need to remember to take my key with me. Perhaps I could just glue it to my upper arm?
At least I realized what I had done before I was in the shower covered in soapsuds!