I Love Me (or why I went back to bed at 8 a.m. yesterday)

My family and I spent the weekend gallivanting about Chicago, where I caught a cold from my kids.
On Monday I woke up with my head feeling like a bowling ball, but not so much so that I felt I could stay home from work. So I showered, got dressed, and did my hair. As I am loading my bag up with my day's supply of water I think, " Crap where's my wallet?"
I rack my brains but can not think where it might be, and the last place I remember having it was when we stopped at Target Sunday morning to pick up some stuff for my nephew's party. Shit. Shit. Shit! Did I leave my wallet in Target!? So I check my car and it's not there. I dump a bunch of bags that we hadn't unpacked on to the floor. SHIT!
So I call Mr. Hobbitfeet at work, and after thinking for a minute or two he remembers seeing it in the swimming bag. Why? Who knows, but it's there so I make kissy-noises and say I love him. Lock the door and run out of the house. SHIT!!!! I just locked my keys inside the house.
This happens to me a lot.
We have extra keys hidden for just such an emergency (once in Chicago Mr. H. had to take a cab home from work to let me and the kids in). So I go into my backyard, which is extra muddy from recent rains. I'm wearing sandals and my feet are now muddy ("No big thing," I think "I'll just rinse them off with the hose"). I hunker down near the hiding place (which I will say was under our deck stairs we nailed up a little hook, as of last night we moved them). I am face to face with a tiny, pitch-black hole. There is mud. There are bugs. There may be some manner of small animal (Oh please, oh please don't let a possum be under there!). Now I have mud on my legs.
I slowly stick my hand in the hole, desperately fighting my urge to vomit, scream, and run away. No key. I run my hand along the side of the stairs. Mushy gunk, BUGS (AHHHH!), spider webs, no key. I pull my hand out, mud from fingertip to elbow. I think maybe it's on the other side. Mud on my skirt. The other side requires that I stick my hand in with no visual guidance at all. There is no way in hell that that is happening (who's idea was this hiding place?) I look up and see that I have blessedly left the kitchen window open.
I fight with the screen for several minutes (spiderwebs in my hair), climb up on top of the grill (mud and spiderwebs on my top) and climb through the window on to my sink (whacking my girl parts on the faucet). As soon as I get through the window I go shooting off the sink and land hard on my right side because I am still wearing muddy shoes (mud in my hair).
Now I am inside, in considerable pain, and faced with the idea that I will have to take another shower, find a new outfit, and redo my hair.
I decide my head cold is worse then I first thought because it has clearly impaired my thinking. I am also glad that the dog is still at the borders because the last thing I need is for him to start licking the mud off my face as I lay in shame on the kitchen floor.